A Cruel Mistress
by TuesdayNovember
Summary: Ralph, Jack, Piggy, Roger, Simon and the others have been stranded on an island, but this time, they're not alone. A number of students from a girl's school have also found themselves marooned. Formerly 'To Vie for Supreme Command'
1. The Orange Bird

Piggy waddled ankle-deep into the crystalline water and bent over to pick something up from the ocean floor, his shorts slipping lower on his backside. Ralph wrinkled his nose and turned away in distaste at the unholy view.

"Lookit, Ralph! I found something!" Piggy cried, straitening as he pulled up his shorts. To Ralph he proffered the shell, muddy and wet.

"It's a shell," Ralph told him. "I mean it's nice and all, but…" his voice trailed off.

"No, Ralph. It ent just a shell, it's a conch. It makes a noise like a trumpet. You blow it, right, and then it makes a sound."

"You blow it then," Ralph handed the conch back, but Piggy shook his head and pushed it away.

"I can't blow, on account of my ass-mar. You try. My auntie says that you take it and blow at the end."

Ralph took the conch gingerly, pressed it to his lips, and blew. The noise emitted, however, was not that of a trumpet, but a loud, wet fart. Ralph and Piggy doubled over with laughter.

"Do it again, but my auntie says you blow from here," Piggy patted at the blubber of his stomach, "from your dire-frame"

Ralph tried again, sputtering for a moment, then producing a long, loud note, much like a trumpet.

"We can hold a meetin'! There's got ta be more people, they'll hear, and they'll come, and we can have a meetin'! Keep blowing, Ralph!"

*

A kilometre or so away, a group of choirboys, garbed entirely in black, heard the sound of the conch. Having made their way from the jungle, hot, tired and hungry, their leader gave them a few minutes to rest. They were sitting in the sand, poking at the ground with sticks, when one of them saw something bright orange bobbing in the water, just a speck on the horizon. It was just as he was about to comment on the brightly coloured bird that they heard someone blowing a trumpet.

*

The sound of retching brought Mary out of her half-sleep. Her entire body was sunburned and wet. Like everyone else, she sat in a puddle of cold, muddy water. The midday sun had coaxed most of them to sleep, but Clara's inability to retain her lunch woke them up. Leaning over the side of a garish orange lifeboat, Clara moaned and whined.

"This shit always happens to me. My life sucks, I hate everything," she was near tears, which was nothing new. Unhappy at rest having been wrenched from her grasp, Mary contemplated pushing disgusting, fat Clara from the raft. No one would miss her.

"I hate my life, this is so unfair. I try so hard and this is what happens, I hate-"

"Shut up!" Mary snapped, "You're not the only one here, so quit your goddamn complaining,"

"I'm light sensitive, and I get motion sickness, okay! I can't take this!"

Mary's eyes widened in anger, she was tired and aching, but she would kill Clara if she had to. But, luckily for both of them, Genevieve shifted herself to Clara's side and quietly soothed her nerves. It was as Mary began to close her eyes again that one of the younger girls, Catherine, perhaps, tugged on her skirt with cold hands and pointed to the East. Mary pushed herself up and looked.

It was an island.


	2. Meeting

A throng of children encircled Piggy and Ralph. Piggy delegated himself the job of taking names.

"What's you?" he asked a smallish blonde boy.

The boy beside answered, "I'm Sam"

"I'm Eric," The original recipient of the question said.

"Sam 'n Eric?" Piggy asked, pointing first to Eric, then to Sam.

They shook their heads in unison, and Eric pointed to his twin, "Sam," he pointed to himself, "'n Eric"

Thoroughly confused, Piggy moved on to the next boy, "Name?" he asked.

"Percival Wemys Madison. The Vicarage, Harcourt St. Anthony. Telephone Harcourt 241," the tiny boy told him. As he spoke, the sound of mellifluous choral chanting floated across their makeshift assembly room. The motley group of boys turned to face the beach where a group of choirboys in black capes were marching two-by-two towards their meeting. They were headed by a somewhat taller redhead who led the procession like a nun leading her students - with the cold detachment of obvious authority.

With sweeping, crow-like movements, the black animal approached Ralph, "where's the man with the trumpet?"

"There's no man," Ralph said with an awkward grin, "only me. You're the choir?"

"Yes,"

"You're good," Ralph was eager to get along with such a powerful-looking figure.

The boy smirked, "yes,"

One of the choirboys, a slight, blond boy, collapsed into a heap. The others swooped down to his aid, murmuring as one, and, as one, moving him to the shade. The boys watched these proceedings in awe, making room for the choir's newly incapacitated member.

During this time, Piggy had moved to the foreground, attempting to make himself known, "we're having a meeting," Piggy told the choir's leader, "would you like to join?"

The boy sneered, "Who are you?"

"Wot?"

He threw his head back and laughed, cruelly, "wot?" he mocked, then continued, "Are we going to have proper names, like school, or-"

"I'm taking names," Piggy informed him.

The boy shot him a glare. To lighten the tension, Ralph cut between them, "What's your name?" he asked the boy.

With a smile, as if formally presenting himself, he responded, "Merridew. Jack Merridew," extending a hand.

"I'm Ralph. We are having a meeting, though," he said

"Well, if we're having a meeting, we need a leader," Jack said.

"We ought to have a vote," Piggy said.

Jack opened his mouth to deny, but Ralph said quickly, "Yes, a vote. We need to have a vote. "

Jack looked around for support, but found none, so instead he said, "Alright, well, hands up if you want me for leader, then,"

There was a brief pause, then every choirboy, including the formerly debilitated one, who had been revived sometime earlier, raised their hands.

"Hands up if you want... me?" Ralph said, a bit unsure.

The rest of the boys raised their hands. Jack was furious, once again about to complain, and once again interrupted by Ralph, "But you must have the choir, of course. They could be...hunters or...whatever you like..."

"Hunters? I've been hunting, back in England. I'm a good hunter, one of the best, in fact. Yes, the choir will be hunters. Right choir?"

There was a general assent, something between a mumble and a grunt, which Jack took badly, "_Right_, choir?"

This time there was an audible, if not energetic, "yes"

"Well," Ralph continued, "I think before we go play there's some stuff we have to do. First, we need to see if we're on an island, because if we're not, we could be rescued strait away, but if we are, it might take longer. And we need to set up rules, see, because we can't just have everyone talking at once, it'll get confusing."

"You can only speak if you have the conch," Piggy said, with firm authority, "It's a rule."

"Why is it a rule? Just because you say?" Jack was indignant, again.

"It's a good rule," a soft voice said. It was the boy who had fainted.

"What's your name?" Piggy asked

"Simon," he said.

"So it's a rule just because he says?"

"It's a good rule," Simon repeated.

Jack turned to face Simon, angry, but Ralph, again, stopped him, "I'm chief and I'll decide. I think Piggy's rule is a good one. So from now on, when we're at assembly, you can only speak if you have the conch." There was a sense finality in his voice that stopped Jack from countering his statement.

"Hey! What's that?" One of the boys cried, pointing to the beach.

The assembly turned to look at a ragged group of people walking up the beach. They looked like girls, all straggling behind one, who kept turning around and urging them onwards.

*

"Are you sure you saw people, Mary?" Jenny asked.

"I swear I did. They were in capes or something. I'm sure I did,"

Clara piped up, "You know, when you're tired and thirsty your brain plays tricks on you. Maybe you just thought you saw people," she fancied herself an expert on these things.

Mary was too tired to respond, though she would have loved to. A few of the younger girls whined incomprehensibly about their hunger, their thirst, but they were ignored.

Then, a head appeared from around some trees, "D'you see that?" Genevieve asked, "It's a head, there's someone there!"

And suddenly, though thoroughly exhausted, the girls somehow found the energy to quickly make their way over.

_"We're saved," _Mary thought happily. With chapped and bleeding lips, she smiled in relief.


	3. The Girls of St Agnes of the Rock

As the group of girls got closer, the boys could see that their clothes dirty and wet, and that they were of the same general age as them. Most of them were covered in minor cuts and bruises, but one of the younger girls was nursing a large gash on her arm.

Ralph, still holding the conch, left the assembly area to greet the girls, "Who are you?" he asked, not unkindly.

The foremost girl, short and slim with ratty brown hair, answered, formally, "We are the girls of Saint Agnes of the Rock Catholic School. Who are you?"

Ralph ignored her question, "How did you get here?" they obviously were not on the plane that had crashed.

The girl looked back at the others, as if asking for permission to tell. She received a slight nod from a tall, skinny girl, "We were being evacuated. To Australia. We were put on a ship with a bunch of other girls. The ship... something happened to it. They got most of us rescued, there was a helicopter, but they missed us. We got on a raft, so..." she trailed off and shrugged.

The boys had now surrounded Ralph and were inspecting the girls. One of the younger boys spoke, "They put you on a boat all the way from England to Australia? That would take _years_,"

The short girl arched an eyebrow and pursed her lips, "We're not _from_ England," she told him.

There was a universal intake of breath, and a moment of confused murmuring, before the boy spoke again, "You sound English though..."

She rolled her eyes, "We're from South Africa," she told them. There was a brief pause, then, "Do you have a telephone? Can you send a wire to the Navy to come get us?"

Ralph shook his head, "We don't live here. There was a plane crash. We're stranded too,"

At this, the girls seemed annoyed, the short one scowled, "Fine, then I guess we'll have to find some other way of getting rescued, then."

Piggy had pushed his way to the front, "We're having a meeting for that. Now. I'm taking names. What's you?"

Ralph spoke, "You can join our meeting. But you came a bit late, I'm afraid. We've already chosen a chief..."

"Who?" The short girl's voice was commanding, if raspy.

"Me. Ralph. If that's okay, or..."

"If we have a problem we'll stage an uprising," she smiled as she said this, but Ralph recognized that it was only half a joke.

Ralph began moving back to the assembly area, and the others followed. Jack lingered a moment longer, looking over the group of girls with cold, calculating eyes. The short one met his gaze. There was a moment of silent tension, then a smile from Jack, reciprocated by the girl.

The girls settled themselves beside the choir, and after a moment of quiet conversation, Piggy began to speak, "We need your names," he said

There was a silence. None of the girls spoke, so the short one stood up and moved her way to the front of the crowd, "That's Genevieve, Clara, Jenny, Catherine, Susan, Lucy, Andrea..." she spoke quickly, pointing to each girl as she gave their name, "...Margaret, Anne, Elizabeth. And I'm Mary," she said.

She scanned the crowd, then looked to Ralph. He was talking to Piggy in undertones, so she moved back to where Jack was standing.

"Who is everybody?" she asked, but only interested in the fat one and him.

Jack seemed to understand she didn't really care about the others, "I'm Jack," he said, "I'm choir prefect, and those boys there," he pointed to the choir, "are my hunters," Mary was impressed, and made a sort of 'ohh' noise to convey it. "The fat one is Piggy."

At this, Mary's face lit up, she smiled gleefully, "_Piggy?_" and chuckled with genuine mirth. Jack sniggered as well, but coldly, sharing a secret, evil grin with one of the choirboys.

Ralph turned to address the crowd, "Now that everyone is here, there's some stuff we have to do. We have to figure out if we're on an island, and if it's inhabited-"

"If there were natives, they'd have been here by now," Jack said.

"You haven't got the conch!" Piggy cried.

"Neither have you, fatty."

Ralph continued, "The only way we can figure this out is if we go exploring. I'll go, and Jack, and..." he turned to Mary, wanting to include only the leaders on this expedition, but she shook her head, "...you. Are you alright now?" Simon nodded. "We'll come back and tell you everything," Ralph concluded, turning to go.

Simon got up and put his folded cape on a rock, moving towards Ralph and Jack as Mary moved away.

"What about me?" Piggy whined, anxious at being left out.

"Three's enough. We don't need you, fatty," Jack said

"I was with 'im when 'e found the conch! The meetin' was my idea!" but they had already turned to go. Ralph turned towards him, put a gentle hand on his shoulder, and murmured something that seemed to reassure him.

The assembly broke up; the little'uns migrated towards the beach, while the older ones and the girls stayed nearer the shade, the boys to play, and the girls to sleep.

Two of the little girls stayed behind, Catherine and Anne, Catherine tugging at Mary's skirt, "Mary? Mary lookit Anne's arm. It's all cut, she needs a doctor. Mary, are you a doctor?"

She looked around for help from one of the other girls, specifically Genevieve, who had more patience, but she was busy with Clara, "Sure, Katty, sure I'm a doctor, let me see the arm,"

Anne, who had been standing slightly behind Catherine, moved forward and proffered Mary an injured arm. It had somehow been cut vertically along the back. It wasn't too deep, but it was bloody, and, Mary noted, rather disgusting looking.

"Alright, Annie, what I want you to do is go into the water, okay, and just play around a bit, and make sure your arm gets all wet, okay?"

"Why?"

"There's magic in the water. Remember that. Whenever you get a little cut, you go play in the ocean and make sure it gets nice and wet. It'll hurt a bit, but it'll make you better. I'll be back in a little bit, okay? Don't go too far in."

The girls nodded and ran obediently to the water. Mary turned around to look for something she could use as a bandage. The girl's uniforms wouldn't work. Their skirts were thick wool, they wouldn't rip properly or absorb anything, and their blouses were of a much too thin material. Looking at the boys, she realized their uniforms wouldn't work either. Their dress shirts were as thin as the girls', and their shorts – for most of them were wearing shorts of some kind – wouldn't have enough material. Then she remembered the choir. They had their black capes, and those, she thought, would do nicely.

She scanned the crowd for a choirboy, and found one, standing by a tree, ripping viciously at its leaves.

"Hi," she smiled timidly, and, she hoped, sweetly, "Sorry to bother you or anything, but one of my girls has a terrible cut, and I was just wondering if maybe you wouldn't mind lending us your cape so we could make a bandage for her?" she gave him her most innocently loving doe eyes, it had always worked wonders.

The boy looked her up and down, and said, "you want my cape?"

"Yeah, if you don't mind," she said, smiling.

He snorted in derision and turned back to the tree. The sweet innocence left her face. She glared at him and turned away, determined to find someone less cold.

Some distance away she saw a group of choirboys standing together. With some apprehension, she approached, "Hi guys," she smiled. They turned to her and grinned, "Um, well you see, one of my girls got hurt, and I was wondering if maybe I could use one of your capes as a bandage..." her head was spinning and everything looked faraway, like a dream. _"God I must be tired,"_

One of the boys broke away from the group and moved towards the beach, talking, "So you're Mary. Pleasure to meet you, I'm Maurice," he stuck out a hand, "So you need some help?"

She nodded, "Is it okay if we use your cape?"

"Certainly, certainly!" he seemed quite cheerful, and very nice. She took an immediate liking to him, "where's your girl? D'you need some help?"

"I'd love some help," she smiled, half dazed, "She's at the beach..."

He looked at her more closely, then frowned, "You stay here. I'll get her, which one is she?"

Her eyes were beginning to close, "She's the one with the blonde hair, and the cut on her arm...her left arm? I don't know..." She sat down in the sand and closed her eyes, then opened them, "Maurice?" she called.

He turned back, "Yeah?"

"Who's that?" she motioned loosely to the boy by the tree.

He frowned, "That's Roger. I wouldn't talk to him if I were you," he said, and made his way to the beach.

With a sigh, she turned over to her stomach, lay her heavy head in the sand, and closed her eyes. _"Maurice can deal with Annie, she won't need me to bandage her cut, it's fine,"_ she reassured herself before drifting off to sleep.

*

It was night when she awoke. Rubbing her eyes she sat up and waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Everyone was asleep on the beach. At some point Anne and Catherine had curled up beside her. She was relieved to note that Anne had a black dressing on her arm.

With some effort, she levered herself up and took stock of the situation. Two or three days without food or water; she was shaky on her legs as she moved towards Ralph, then changed her mind and found Jack.

She nudged him gently, nervous at awakening him, but too desperate to really care, "Jack?" she croaked.

He grumbled and turned to her with bleary eyes, "whaddaya want?"

"Jack," her voice was weak and creaky, "I'm sorry, but... did you find any water? I think I'm dying..."

He sighed and got up, "Come with me," he said. She smiled. Her lips cracked and began to bleed.


	4. Secession

**Alright, so, two things. First, the current title, _To Vie for Supreme Command_, is really incredibly terrible. Unfortunately, I can't come up with anything better, so if you can, please find some way of getting the improved title to me. Second, at the moment, the story is pretty much PG, except for the odd 'goddamn' and whatnot. However, this won't be the case for long. I'm warning you guys now that things are going to be getting a little more mature in the coming chapters. You know, verisimilitude and all that. **

**But that's enough of me. The moving finger writes, and having writ, moves on:**

As Jack led her through the jungle, he began to explain, "When we got back you were asleep. We thought it'd be better to let you rest-"

Mary forced out, "The other girls?"

"We brought everyone that was awake to drink. We let everyone else sleep," she nodded and he continued, "We searched the whole island. It's not that big, but we're the only ones here. There's fruit and water, and I found a pig. I tried to kill it, but it got away. But next time it won't, and we'll have meat to eat. We made a fire, too. I figured out how to," he was boasting now, "it was really magnificent, you should have seen, everyone was impressed. If I weren't here, they probably never would have figured it out."

They reached the river, and as Mary drank there was a peaceful silence. Done, she lifted her head, smiled, and thanked him.

"No problem, I can sleep all day, right?" he said with a chuckle.

She nodded. In the silence, her stomach grumbled, having been opened to hunger by the water. Mary blushed.

"Hungry?"

"I guess so," she said sheepishly.

He laughed, "There's some fruit back at the camp," he said.

She smiled weakly, "Thanks."

*

The next morning dawned bright and early. Genevieve was the first one up. She stood, stretched, and looked around at the sleeping bodies around her. She had a sudden urge to throw sand on them, but resisted it, instead using the time to bathe in the ocean.

When Mary got up the sun was almost at its zenith, and she had a terrible headache. Surveying the camp, she saw, to her relief, that she wasn't the last one up. Fat Clara was curled in a ball by a tree, Jack was sleeping by a few of the other choirboys, and a number of little'uns were still curled up, bathed in sunlight.

Rubbing her face and sighing, she made her way over to the ocean, where Genevieve was sitting with Jenny and Margaret.

"...fell over the log onto her stomach. Her skirt flipped up so everyone could see her underwear!" There was a chorus a cruel laughter as she approached.

"Hey Mary!" Jenny said cheerfully, "Good rest?"

"Yeah. I got a headache though," she said with a frown.

"Too bad. Hey, did you hear what happened to Clara yesterday?" Margaret, Jenny and Mary were allies in their mutual hatred of Clara. Genevieve was more sympathetic.

She shook her head, "What?"

"Well, you and Jenny were asleep but me and Vivvie and Clara were up when the boys got back from exploring. They were all like, 'we found water and food and stuff', so we go with 'em through the jungle to this river- which reminds me, have you drank yet?" Mary nodded, so Margaret continued, "and on the way there we have to go over this log, so me and Jenny and that guy...Jack, are near the end, behind Clara. And so she's going over this log, trips, falls flat on her face, and her skirt flips up and we see her underwear! You should have seen Jack's face, it was hilarious!" There was another loud bout of laughter.

"Oh my god, that's like this one time, me and Clara were playing soccer with...you remember Rob and Greg, right?" They nodded, "So anyway we're playing soccer and she just runs for the ball, falls over, and of course she's in a skirt, and all three of us saw her underwear. She's so _flabby_, too!" They laughed wickedly, "Wanna go for a swim?"

"I already did," Genevieve said.

"So what, you can only swim once? Come on!" She leapt up from her spot and pulled at her arm, "You too!" she directed this at Jenny, who was still sitting. Margaret had gotten up and was already splashing in the water.

After a momentary struggle, Mary succeeded in bringing the two into the water.

Mary threw herself at Genevieve, half drowning her, before being torn viscously off by Jenny, who was tackled by Margaret. This continued until their violent game was cut short by the sound of the conch. With a laugh, they disentangled themselves and made their way to the camp.

When everyone had arrived, Ralph began to speak, "The reason I called this meeting is because last night everyone had to sleep on the beach, but what if it had rained? What I mean is, we need shelters, to protect us. So today that's what we're going to do. We're going to build shelters; everyone has to help, except if you're watching the fire, okay?"

There was a general murmur of assent, which was broken by Jack, "What about us? What about the hunters. We can't build shelters, we've got more important things to do!"

"You haven't got the conch!" Piggy shouted.

"Shut up!"

"He's right, Jack. You haven't got the conch," Ralph said in a calm, fatherly tone.

Jack sneered, "Give it to me then," the conch handed to him, he continued, "Us hunters won't be around to build shelters, because we have more important things to do. It's my hunters that will tend to the fire, and it's my hunters that will bring back meat. We need meat." He was firm, and Ralph knew that arguing with him would only cause more problems.

The conch was handed back to Ralph, and he spoke, "Fine. Piggy's made plans for the shelters. I need everyone to get big, strong sticks and palm branches, understand?"

Another general assent, and the assembly broke up.

It only took a few hours before everyone began to get bored of making shelters. By the time Mary, Genevieve, Margaret and Jenny wandered off, they had made about 10, each able to hold two people. This was a satisfactory number, but they still needed more. The girls, however, didn't really care. They were bored, and went off into the jungle in search of fruit and water. No one came to find them, so they spent the rest of the day climbing trees and laughing.

*

There was about a fortnight of idyllic living before things started getting, as Piggy was fond of saying, buggered up. Each evening, about an hour before sunset, Ralph would call a meeting. Piggy stood on one side of him, Jack and Mary on the other. Mary always stood by Jack, because she found his confidence and authority appealing. But though she would never admit it, his power wasn't the only thing she was attracted to.

When everyone had gathered, the meeting would commence. Usually they didn't last long; Ralph would comment on the state of the shelters, warn them about dangerous fruit or remind the little'uns of where they could and could not do their business. To conclude every meeting, Ralph would allow any member of the assembly a chance to talk. No one ever took this opportunity though, because they wanted to relish in the last remaining daylight hours.

It was at one such meeting that things began to fall apart, "...which is why you _can't_ go to the bathroom near the fruit, okay? That's disgusting," Ralph said, "Does anyone have anything to add?" He asked this dismissively, because he knew no one ever did.

People had begun to get up when a soft, childish voice said, "I do," Ralph handed him the conch, and motioned for everyone to return to their places, "I was in the jungle yesterday. It was still dark. And I saw something," Jack tapped his spear impatiently, "It was... it was a...a...a beastie. A big snake thing like them ropes on the trees, but with a...a face."

"A beastie?" Ralph dismissed this, "What did you say your name was?"

"Percival Wemys Madison, the Vicarage, Harcourt St. Anthony," he said.

Roger sneered and rolled his eyes, "Can we go now?"

"Let him talk," Ralph said, "What's this about a beast, now?"

"There was a beast, I saw it. It was big and it had a face like a man and a snake body and it got Andrew Jackson, he was there...he was there and then he..." Percival began to cry, harsh sobs wracking his tiny frame.

There was a moment of confused murmuring, then Piggy spoke, "I don't believe in no beastie,"

"Shut up, fatty. No one cares what you think," Jack snapped.

"Listen!" Mary shouted over the din. The rabble quieted itself. Mary hardly ever spoke at assembly, "Listen, all of you. There isn't a beast. There can't be. If there were, we'd all be dead by now. How many times have we gone into the jungle? A million! And everyone's fine and safe and nobody's dead. If there is a beast-"

"If there is a beast, we'll hunt it," Jack said, forcefully.

"Hunt it? How? How are you going to hunt a beast, Jack?" Ralph cried

"We have our spears. We're strong. We'll find the beast, and we'll kill it."

"There ain't no beast!" Piggy shouted

"Let's go look then. If you're so sure, there's no harm in looking. Us hunters have been all over the island. The only place we haven't been is... oh! Yes! It must be there!" He didn't elaborate on where 'there' was, "I'm going to go find the beast. Are you coming Ralph, or are you chicken?"

"'course I'm not chicken," he said, defensively.

"Come on then. We're going to go on an expedition. We're going to find the beast."

The choir and a handful of other boys made their way to where Jack and Ralph were standing.

Mary rolled her eyes and led the girls farther down the beach, "They're so stupid," she said, "I mean really, a _beast_? It's ridiculous. I've never heard anything so retarded in my life."

Jenny nodded, "Yeah, seriously."

"I don't see why we can't have our own meetings, you know. I mean, what good do Ralph's meetings to. We can see the shelters, we don't need him to tell us. And honestly, I think we know where to shit," Mary said. The girls laughed, "If we had meetings they'd be fun, they'd be useful _and_ fun." She stood atop a log, addressing the crowd of girls with passionate movements and vivacious eyes, "We aughta make our own group. We could do what we liked. Our shelters would be better. I bet we could hunt, too. We wouldn't have to rely on anyone. It'd be great. Ralph's lot could keep with the fire, and we'd be rescued along with them, but we'd have our own thing. We'd do what we like. We could make a camp farther away, and we could just be... it would be great!" Impassioned, Mary was impossible to resist.

"Yeah!" They shouted.

Their fervour fuelled hers. She radiated energy, she wanted to yell and scream and run around like a madwoman, "_Yeah!_"

"_YEAH!_" They yelled.

Mary smiled, "So it's settled. Tonight, we move. Tomorrow, we hunt."


	5. Changes

**As you may well know, I am horrified with the story's current title, so again, any input would be fantastic. Also, expect things to be getting a little more mature in the near future. Please know I've no aversion to getting reviews, so maybe if you're thinking "wow, this is one really super amazing story" you can...write a review? =)**

**I've nothing more to say, so happy reading!**

A dull breeze moaned through the trees. The soft lapping of waves on the shore and the quiet drone of insects lulled Clara to sleep. Her eyelids drooped, her breathing got heavier, and her head leaned to one side. Her mouth fell open and a thin line of spit made its way from her mouth to her shoulder. A few of the young boys saw and sniggered.

"Fat Clara," they whispered to each other, and moved away from the fleshy blob.

Mary's girls made their way back to the meeting place, picking their way over the litter on the beach. On each of their faces was a contented smile, but none was quite as self-satisfied as Mary's. Her mouth curled upwards at the edges in a smirk, her eyes glowed with the unadulterated pleasure of leadership. The girls were hers, unequivocally, entirely, hers.

The girls reached the meeting place; Jenny made a face that sent a few of the little'uns rolling in the sand with mirth. Mary noticed Clara before the others, and her smirk morphed itself into a cruel smile, her eyes taking on a fearsome light. Clara grunted in her sleep, and a tiny whine escaped from her bottom.

By this time she had been surrounded by Mary's girls. They watched with wicked eyes as Mary took a handful of red earth. She drew a moustache on Clara's face and wrote the most horrid things she could think of on her arms. Clara was her prize, but she knew the other girls wanted to torment her as well, so she stepped back to survey her work.

With a gesture she motioned to the girls that they could do as they pleased as well. They moved in, taking handfuls of earth and smearing it on her sleeping form. Only Genevieve hung back, unwilling. Clara, in spite of her many obvious shortcomings, was still her friend.

"Mary, I don't think..." She protested weakly.

She shook her head, "It's not even dark. She's been sleeping all day. If she can't stay awake, hell, maybe she deserves it."

But Genevieve looked mournful all the same.

When the boys returned from their expedition the meeting continued. The mirthful air was replaced by a fearful one as they approached with sombre faces and worried eyes.

Piggy took his usual place beside Ralph, but Mary remained seated with her girls. Jack, much to her pleasure, motioned for her to take her usual place, beside him, but she declined.

Ralph began talking about the beast, how they'd seen it on a hill. How it moved, how it was obviously real. There was an argument between Jack and Ralph, which was nothing new. Mary tuned the whole thing out. She wasn't concerned with mythical creatures or with the boys' argument. She was content, and was satisfied to daydream through the contention.

At some point Clara had awakened and moved to sit beside Mary. At their school, Clara had been Mary's faithful lackey, obedient and full of unending adoration. There was no real explanation for it; Mary was a cruel mistress, having no qualms in making Clara do whatever brunt work she was unwilling to do. Clara was willing, a perfect servant. In return, Mary made sure she was teased somewhat less by the others, but Mary did nothing to stop herself from feeding Clara backhanded compliments.

Unfortunately for Clara, the island had brought out the worst in both of them, Mary's unbridled vindictiveness, and Clara's ability to question her mistress. The result would be catastrophic for Clara. For now though, Clara, though somewhat more independent, still adored Mary. It was the only thing preventing disaster. Clara didn't notice the paint on her face, she was used to habitual sniggering from the others.

Seated beside Mary, she interrupted her queenly fantasies, "Isn't he _cute_?"

Mary was jerked rudely from her ideals of being island queen, "Who?" she asked, not really caring.

Clara sighed, smitten, "_Jack_," she murmured. Mary did nothing to hide her disgust, making a horrified face, not because she disagreed, but because it was Clara who shared her sentiments, "And I think he _likes_ me,"

Mary turned to face her. She knew Clara had a tendency to imagine people were desperately in love with her, but usually it didn't make a difference. Usually they were equally pathetic people, "Really?"

She nodded, smiling her disgusting, besotted smile. She gave no explanation for her thoughts, but it was obviously she thought they would get married once they left the island, maybe have a few children and live in a lovely house with a white picket fence and a dog.

Mary turned away, silently digging her nails into her palms. This was no small act, her nails were long and quite sharp.

The meeting ended with an argument, and as the crowd moved slowly away, Mary got up to speak to Ralph. Her beeline was intersected by Jack, who grabbed her arm fiercely and turned her to face him.

"Why weren't you up there?"

Mary couldn't concentrate on his question, she turned pink, his hand was on her arm, and that was all she could think of, "What?"

"Why weren't you up there?"

She shook her head, and, unwillingly, shook her arm free, "I have to talk to Ralph," she said.

There was an unmistakeable ferociousness in his eyes, "Why?"

"I'll tell you later,"

His voice was low, "Tell me now," he growled

She smiled at him, pink again, she was thrilled by his power, and turned to go.

His eyes bored holes in her back. He watched her walk to Ralph, watched her gently put a hand on his shoulder and steer him away from Piggy and a few little'uns. He watched them talk in hushed voices, and, in anger, turned away to the beach.

"Ralph, I need to talk to you," Mary said

"What is it?"

"Well, Ralph, you know I think you're a great leader, right?" He shrugged, and she continued, "Well, I do. But us girls...we can't stay with you any longer. We're going to be moving down the beach. To do our own thing. We're not going to bother you, and if you need anything, any help or whatever, we'll be there."

He watched in shock, "You're...just going to leave? Just like that? I was elected chief!"

She shook her head, "Not by us. But please Ralph, don't take it personally, it's just that we have our own ideas, our own things to do. It's nothing personal, really. We'll be just down the beach, after all. And if you ever have anything important to tell us, we'll come to your assembly."

"How will you know if it's important?" He asked.

She shrugged, "I don't know. Maybe just blow a few really short blasts, or something,"

"Okay," he didn't seem particularly keen on the idea.

She smiled at him, "Oh Ralph it's not so bad," she said, and turned to go.

*

Mary scanned the shoreline. Her girls had taken it upon themselves to move their shelters down the beach. Mary didn't particularly want to help, and was relieved to see they didn't seem to need it.

Catherine and Anne materialised beside her. Anne was sucking her thumb as Catherine tugged at Mary's skirt, "Mary? Why are they moving all the shelties?"

Mary tousled her hair, "A few of us are moving down the beach," she said.

Catherine and Anne looked at each other, and Anne asked, "Can we come?"

Mary knelt down to their level, "You promise to be good?" They nodded, "You'll listen if I tell you something?" another nod, "Ok, you can come." She said with a smile.

They engulfed her in a hug, "Yay! Mary you're the bestest!" One of them said into her hair.

She laughed, "Ok, ok, thanks. It's getting late. If you want to come, you better get one of the older girls to move your shelter so you have someplace to sleep, ok?"

They nodded solemnly and Catherine asked, "Mary? Is there really a beastie?" Their eyes were wide and fearful.

"Of course not, silly girls," She said, gently flicking their noses, "Now go, it's getting late!" They hugged her again and ran off, hand in hand, towards tall Genevieve.

Jack was sitting on a log, facing the ocean. He said nothing as Mary sat beside him.

"Isn't it beautiful?" she asked

He turned, as if only just noticing her, "What?"

Mary was not a romantic, but she couldn't help noticing the beauty in the night. The waxing moon lay on a soft black velvet bed, encircled by a multitude of glistening stars, each tiny glowing orb reflected in the crystalline water. Jupiter glowed brightly on the horizon. Cassiopeia sat on her unearthly throne, beautiful mistress guardian of the night sky.

Mary sighed, enamoured, "Oh Jack..." she murmured

He looked at her strangely, "What is it?"

"Oh it's so wonderful. I could just look at the sky forever," she smiled, dazed.

He shook his head; he wasn't concerned with constellations or the moon. He was brooding, "Why were you talking to Ralph?" there was an unmistakeable edge to his voice, whether from jealousy or hatred was unclear.

She drew herself from her trance, "Oh. We, us girls, some of us, we're moving down the beach is all," She didn't want to explain her new position of leadership. Now fully withdrawn from her star-struck haze, she continued, much more herself, "You know Clara thinks you're madly in love with her," she said with a cruel smirk.

"Clara? Which one is that?"

She sighed, "The stupid fat one," she said.

"Her? Ugh!" His upper lip curled in disgust.

"And she lo-oves you," she said teasingly, puffing her cheeks and making ridiculous kissing faces. When she was satisfied with his repulsion, she chuckled and got up.

"Good night, Jack. Sweet dreams!" She mocked, making the face again and laughing at his horrified look.


	6. The Whistle

**Thank you everyone who has reviewed, you're all wonderful people. Before I let you read the story, I must add one thing: the story _will_ be getting mature soon. I know I've been saying it for two chapters now, but it will. **

**And now, the feature presentation:**

Something woke Mary up before the dawn. With a groan, she stretched and sat up, peering groggily outside. It was still dark; on the horizon she could just see the tips of the sun's rays tickling the edges of cumulous clouds.

She crawled outside - knowing full well that she would never be able to fall back asleep - and looked around for the source of the disturbance. The girls' camp was tranquil and the birds were silent. She scanned the edge of the jungle for any oddities, but found none. Annoyed, she let out a sigh and leaned against her shelter, trying to decide what to do with the time. She decided to bathe.

The water was cool, and sent convulsive shivers through her body. She looked at herself in the water. She was a mess; her hair was matted and tangled, her blouse was dirty and torn, her body was dirty, scratched, bruised, and her skirt, which was, comparatively, in good repair, was covered in grime.

She was disgusted with herself. She stripped and waded into the water, carrying her clothes with her, intending to wash them. Mary had no pretences about her looks; she was pretty, and she knew it, a fact that made her, like Cassiopeia, vain and preening.

She scrubbed herself and her clothes furiously, wondering how anyone would have agreed to join her looking as she did. Eventually, her body got used to the water, her movements were calmer, and, absentmindedly, she began to sing.

_In the land of Oz _

_all the women don't wear bras_

_and the men don't care_

'_cause they don't wear underwear_

It was a schoolyard song, childish and dirty, like most others. It put a smile on her face; it was something she could never have sung within earshot of her parents, whose songs, like most parents' were dull and educational.

By the time she had decided both she and her clothes were suitably clean, the sun had begun to creep its way over the horizon. Soon everyone would wake up, and she was loath to be seen in any state of undress.

She made her way back to the shore, half swimming and half bouncing. She put her clothes on wet and ran her fingers through her hair, smoothing it out. She stood with her back to the camp, arms akimbo, atop a log, watching the sunrise. Her face tilted back, bathed in sunlight, looking rapturous.

Her rapture was interrupted by Clara, whose grunting warned Mary that something – she had thought perhaps it was an animal – was coming towards her from the other camp. She stepped down and looked at her.

Clara was a mess, the red earth was smeared all over her, in no recognisable pattern, her hair was dishevelled and her clothes were caked in dirt. Nevertheless, she looked cheerful.

"Hi Mary," she chirped

"Good morning, Clara," she sounded matronly, "Did you sleep well?"

It certainly didn't look like it, but she nodded and told her yes, "Mary, is it true you're not gonna be with Ralph's lot no more?"

"Yeah, we're here now,"

"Oh…okay. But I think I'm gonna stay with them," Mary had never offered Clara the opportunity to join.

"I see, well I hope you have fun, dear," Mary often addressed Clara as 'darling' and 'dear', patronizing her maliciously.

"Ok!" Clara said cheerfully, and made her way back to Ralph's camp.

By this time most of the girls had woken up, and were milling around, looking for food or splashing in the water. Mary stayed where she was for a time, half glad and half insulted that Clara had decided not to join them. She wanted to know why.

With a sigh, she began to walk over to where her friends were seated. Something glinted in the sand, and she bent over to pick it up. It was a tiny metallic whistle hanging from a chain. _"It must belong to one of the kids," _she thought. She looked around. No one seemed to notice her, so she slipped the chain over her neck and tucked the whistle under her shirt.

Genevieve was handing out fruit to the girls when Mary approached.

"Mango?" Genevieve extended the fruit to her.

She took it gratefully, and sat beside Jenny, "Clara came by," she said.

Jenny looked up from her banana, "What'd she want?"

Mary sliced at the mango skin with her nails, "She's not joining us," she said, "She wants to stay with Ralph's lot, lord knows why,"

Margaret frowned, "With all the boys? Isn't that dangerous? I mean, half the reason any of us came is that.... well, you know," she said meaningfully.

"She's made her choice. She'll be sorry later, I bet, but she's made her choice," Jenny said.

Genevieve picked at her fruit, "If it really is dangerous, well, we're her friends, I mean shouldn't we be protecting her? Clara always makes these... you know, bad decisions, shouldn't we be helping her?"

Mary shook her head, "We're not her parents. Let her do what she wants. You'd think after all this time she'd have leaned something, but if she hasn't... well, she has to learn for herself."

This put an end to the conversation, and there was silence as they devoured their breakfasts.

"I have an idea," Mary said when they were done. The girls looked up expectantly, "We ought to all have dinner together," Their expressions didn't change. They had dinner together all the time, "What I mean is, we ought to all get together, every night, and just, you know, have dinner. Like, everyone does something, you know. Like, someone could fish, or get fruit, or set up the fire, whatever. And then _that _could be our meetings. It'd be more fun, I bet,"

As she spoke, their faces lit up, "That's a good idea!" Jenny said, "The little'uns could get fruit, we could fish, or even hunt, probably. And then we all sit around and have dinner!"

They nodded. Mary glowed; it was obvious that she was leader for a reason.

*

Piggy was scowling. He had been left alone, again, when the older boys had gone off hunting or adventuring, or whatever it was that they did. This time, Ralph and Simon had gone with them, and Piggy was left with Clara and the little'uns. He didn't mind the little'uns, they were almost always happy, and they didn't bother him much. It was Clara that was causing him trouble.

He had been sitting on a log near the beach when Clara had decided to wake up. No one was quite sure why she was still with them. Every day Ralph struggled to find something useful for her to do, finally deciding she would have to take care of the little'uns with Piggy. Clara seemed pleased with the job, but Piggy wasn't. He tried to be nice to everyone – Jack and his hunters being the obvious exception – but Clara was bothersome. She would talk for hours on end about absolutely nothing. Half her babble was complaining, the other half was her telling Piggy how much she adored Jack, begging him to keep it a secret.

Piggy always consented, but really it wasn't much of a secret to begin with. She trailed after him like a puppy, and watched him with desperate eyes. Everyone sniggered about it, but no one dared breath a word of it, it was just too wrong.

"I'm sound sensitive, you know," Clara told him for the fifth time, "It makes me really sick when I hear loud, annoying noises."

Piggy gave no response, none was necessary. Instead, he got up, "I'm going for a walk," he said.

"You want me to come?" she asked.

He shook his head, "You have to watch them," he motioned to the little'uns, playing in the surf.

She nodded, and he walked off to the girls' camp. He got there in time to see the end of a meeting. Mary stood atop a log, addressing the girls.

"Tonight, and every night, we get together for dinner. Everyone understand?" A raucous cheer erupted. When it quieted down, she continued, "Everybody has to help. If you can't cook, fish. If you can't fish, get fruit. Whatever, I don't care, but you can't be lazy. Understand?" another cheer, and the girls broke up.

Mary noticed Piggy waiting at the sidelines, and went to greet him, "Hey Piggy," she said cheerfully, "What's up?"

He shrugged, "Your meetings look fun,"

She smiled, "Thanks. What brings you here?"

"Got bored, sitting there with nothin' to do. They don't let me go exploring, see, so I have to stay and watch the little'uns." She nodded, "With Clara," he added.

"Yeah, no wonder you came," she laughed, "You can stay with us, you know. I would let you explore if you wanted,"

He shook his head, "I'm with Ralph," he said, not unkindly.

"Oh, yeah. Loyalty to the chief and all that. I forgot you elected him," She nodded sagely, "Well anyway you can stay as long as you like. We're all friends here, right?" Another laugh.

"Yeah," there was a pause, "Mary, why did you just leave?"

She shrugged, "I got bored, Piggy. All they ever did was wander around and stuff. And they expected us to take care of the little'uns, just 'cause we're girls." She sighed, "Well I got sick of it. When they started talking bullshit about some beast, I got the girls together and we left. I knew they were sick of it too, all we needed was an excuse,"

Piggy watched her, "You left just because you didn't want to look after the little'uns? But I thought you liked them!"

"I do, Piggy. But not all day long. Don't they get on your nerves?"

"You could have just told Ralph. He would have changed things for you. You didn't have to just leave," He sounded indignant.

"Of course I did, Piggy. Don't you see? You're fine with following Ralph. Lots of people are. I'm not. Ralph's nice, I'm not saying he's not. But I..." she trailed off, no longer willing to talk about it, "Hey Piggy?"

"Yeah?"

"Is Piggy your real name?"

He laughed, "No,"

"Then why do they call you Piggy?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the sound of the conch, "Go ahead, Piggy-pie," She laughed, "Come back soo-oon!"

*

The dinner was a success, and firmly sealed Mary into a position of authority. No one would question her now. The fire that Mary had borrowed from the signal was lowered to a small blaze, and the girls were relishing in the remaining sunlight. The younger girls took the time to play in the sand, while the older ones told stories.

Night fell softly, the ghostly orb of the moon rose on the horizon and glowed silver. Most of the little'uns had fallen asleep, and the older girls were sitting around the fire, poking at it with sticks and murmuring to each other.

Mary broke away from them, moving closer to the shore to admire the sky. Watching the stars put a soft, loving smile on her face. She sat in the sand for some time before she was interrupted.

"So you really did it?" the voice said, sounding almost indignant.

She turned to see Jack standing beside her, "Did what?"

"You really left," he said.

She frowned, "Yeah, I left. What's the problem?"

He sat beside her, "Do you know how powerful we could have been?"

She looked at him, "What do you mean?"

"If we joined forces. My hunters and your girls, we could have ruled this island. You could have been queen."

She felt a flutter, "Queen?"

He nodded, "But instead you decided to leave. We could have taken over, you know. I wouldn't have made you watch the brats. That's not a job for a queen. You could have done anything, ruled everyone. With me."

There was a silence as she pondered this, watching him, "You would have made me queen?"

"My queen," he said, solemnly.

"Your queen..." she whispered.

He got up, "You know where I'll be," he said, "When everyone is asleep."

She was aflutter as she watched him go. "_Tonight,_" she thought, _"When everyone is asleep, I'll find him."_ She looked to the sky. Cassiopeia was above her, she sighed, _"Queen..."_


	7. On Earth, as it is in Heaven

**Mmkay, here it is, chapter 7. Many thanks to randomchiq700 for suggesting a new name. From now on, _To Vie for Supreme Command_ will be known as (drumroll, please) _A Cruel Mistress._  
Also, minor warning for language in this chapter. Enjoy! =)**

It was dark. The girls had long since retired to their shelters; the soft sound of breathing mingled with the everyday noises of insects and the ocean. Jenny couldn't sleep. She lay on her back in the soft sand, trying to keep her eyes closed. The moon had long since reached its zenith, yet sleep would not come. She resigned from her struggle and stared at the palm branched above her head; if she stayed awake any longer she would be able to make a detailed drawing of it by morning.

With a sigh loud enough to convey her distaste, but soft enough not to wake Margaret, who was sleeping beside her, she got up and poked her head outside. The moon bathed the beach in its pleasant white glow. From where she was, she could just make out a feminine form moving across the beach to the boys' camp. Curious, she hastened silently out of the shanty and watched the girl.

With deft, silent movements, she followed the figure across the shore. Her feet sunk in the sand, she became less cautious. Her mistake came from stepping on a twig. It snapped sharply beneath her feet. There was nowhere for her to hide, so she turned around and huddled into a ball, but not before seeing the girl's face. It was Genevieve.

*

The boys were asleep when Jack saw the shapely silhouette that he recognised immediately as Mary. He gave a low whistle through his teeth, but she didn't hear. He sat in the sand, the ocean's soft waves kissing his feet. Mary sat beside him.

"You came," he said, not incredulously, but as a simple statement of fact.

"Of course,"

"Do you know why you're here?" he asked, his voice low.

A pause, "I think so," she murmured.

He smiled, "Good," A possessive arm snaked its way around her waist. Although she didn't want to, she struggled free, society's mores still ingrained in her thoughts. She imagined what her mother would say.

For the first time, he turned to look at her. She expected him to lash out in fury at her disobedience, but was instead greeted by a wicked grin, "Feisty," he chuckled. She allowed the curve of a smile to show, "But I'll change that,"

At that moment she wasn't sure what she felt. She knew part of it was fear, but there was also admiration, and another emotion she couldn't quite place. Her ears turned pink, and she was glad her hair was down.

The arm returned, this time casually draped over her shoulders, "You know Mary," he began, "For two weeks we've been standing beside each other, beside _Ralph_," he spat out the name, "But we've never really…spoken. And yet, when I called you, you came," the hand at the end of the arm squeezed her shoulder, "But somehow," the grip tightened, "You feel you have the right to fight against what you knew would happen,"

She was terrified, but more than that, she was furious. "_He thinks I'm no better than Clara! 'Come when he calls', fuck!_"

Out of the thick silence there came a laugh, not cruel, but merry, tinkling from Jack's mouth, "You believed it!" he gasped out, "You really believed it!" He was pink from mirth.

Her eyes widened, her jaw dropped, and then she smiled, "I guess I did," she said, halfway hurt.

He stopped laughing "Scare you?" he teased.

She frowned, "No," She said, coldly.

He let go of her, "I thought you liked our feasts," he said, sounding childish.

"I did," she said.

"Then why did you leave?" he seemed genuinely hurt. He seemed to have taken it as a personal insult.

"It had nothing to do with you, Jack," she said. She moved a touch closer, "If you were leader I wouldn't have left,"

The mischievous twinkle returned to his eyes, "Is that so?"

"Of course,"

The errant arm once again found its way to her waist, possessive, but this time she didn't fight it. Nor did she fight when she felt the arm turning her to face him, or when she felt his mouth, or when one arm became two.

*

The boys' camp was aglow by the cold light of the moon. It sharpened smooth edges and hardened soft surfaces. Genevieve padded softly towards a crude shelter, Simon's, stopping only once, briefly, at the sight of two bodies tangled in the sand. They didn't notice her, so she continued.

"Simon?" she whispered into the darkness.

Groggy eyed, a figure appeared "What is it?"

"I can't sleep"

He got up, "Come with me,"

Over their time on the island, Genevieve and Simon had become friends. It began with the mutual realization that they were both kind-hearted, and not given to the savagery that seemed to grip the others. At first, it was an unspoken alliance, but the tendrils of friendship began to bind their way around them, and eventually, they recognized the other as a friend. They came to be close, and whenever there was trouble, they sought each other.

By the light of the moon, Simon led Genevieve through the jungle to a quiet clearing. Soft grass quavered in the gentle breeze, and they sat in silence. The tranquility of the glade lulled Genevieve to sleep. For the first time on the island, she was at peace.

*

The morning came too soon. With a dissatisfied grumble, Mary got up. It was bright and warm, the birds were singing and the little'uns were shrieking their joy. As usual, Jenny, Margaret and Genevieve were seated on a log, eating breakfast and laughing.

"Morning," she mumbled to them, motioning heavily for one of them to give her fruit.

Margaret laughed, "Sleep well?" she asked, and tossed her a banana.

She made a face, "I hardly slept at all,"

"Neither did I!" Jenny cried, "Maybe there was something weird going on that kept us awake,"

Mary chuckled, "I doubt that's it," she said.

Their breakfast passed pleasantly. Once they were done, Genevieve steered Mary away from the others.

"I saw you last night," she said.

Mary's heart nearly stopped, "What?"

"Last night, with Jack. I saw you," Mary turned pink, "Hey, don't worry, I won't tell anyone,"

She breathed a sigh of relief, "Oh thank God!"

Genevieve became motherly, "You didn't...do anything else, did you?"

"What? No! Oh God, no!" Mary said with a laugh, "Hey, why were _you_ over there anyway?"

"I couldn't sleep," she said

"So you went to the boys' camp?" she asked, suspiciously.

"I just went to go see Simon is all,"

"Oooh, Vivie and Simon sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g, first comes love-"

"Not like that!" Genevieve cried, mortified.

Mary laughed, "Ok, so what then?"

"Nothing, we were just talking is all," she was unwilling to reveal the glade.

"About what?"

"Nothing,"

"No tell me, what?" Mary was stubborn.

Genevieve sighed, "Just about stuff, I dunno. About the island. I couldn't sleep is all,"

"So you went to Simon?" She sounded accusatory

"Well, yeah. I mean, who else was there? You were obviously busy," She countered accusation with spite.

There was a tense silence, then Mary gave her a friendly shove, and soon they were on the ground, laughing.

*

The girls were happy at their camp. Every day Mary made sure the girls fished or got fruit for the feast, and every night they sat around a fire with plenty of food. As time passed, the girls stopped saying their prayers. It did them no good, they found, to pray when nobody answered.

Every feast ended with a speech from Mary. She would stand atop her log and address them. Usually her speeches were brief, touching upon the same things as Ralph's had - fruit, bowel movements, and the beast. She had begun ending her speeches differently, though.

"...tomorrow I want Catherine and Anne in charge of berries. Can you do that, girls?" they nodded, "Then let's have everyone older than 15 fishing, and everyone younger getting fruit. Sound good?" they nodded, "My will be done!"

"Thy will be done," they chorused

"Now go have fun!" she cried cheerfully, and the camp broke up.

During the day, the jungle echoed with the cries of Jack's hunters. Mary had no false pretences about Jack's lot. She liked him, she respected him, but she knew they were dangerous. Catherine and Anne were younger than the other girls, and she didn't want them going too far into the jungle, where the risk was greater for them getting hurt. She didn't want to admit it, but the girls had really grown on her, and she would hate to see them injured.

As time passed, life on the island grew into a routine. The day began with the sun, when the girls would eat their breakfast of fruit. They lounged on the beach, sometimes going into the water, until noon, when they would be hungry again. The afternoon was spent preparing for the feast; the older girls fished, and the younger ones got fruit. All was done on a paradisiacal backdrop, with the sounds of Jack's hunters mingling with those of the island.

The boys, like the girls, had soon fallen to routine as well. Unfortunately for them, theirs was much less tranquil. The boys had split into two unofficial groups, Jack's hunters, and the others. The hunters spent their days in the jungle, having fiercely violent fun, while the others stayed back at the beach. The only time they were together was at Ralph's meetings, which had become more and more erratic as Mary's became more regular.


	8. Unease

**Alright, I'm terribly sorry about how long that took. It was one of those things where I knew what I wanted to happen, but I had no idea how to get there. So anyway, to make up for the long wait, I've made this chapter rather longer. I hope you like it. I feel kind of bad that pretty much nothing has been happening for the last seven chapters, and now again I feel that may be the case, but please bear with me. Shits gon' go down, ya dig?**

**But that's more than enough of me. Thanks to all the reviewers, I love you all.**

Clara and Piggy were left alone again. Of everyone on the island, it seemed those two were somehow unable to lose weight. While the others had to tighten their belts, they remained the same as ever. It had been over a month by this point, and Piggy was mostly fed up of Clara. Every day he had to sit with her, and every day she said the same things, over and over.

That morning had started rather badly for Piggy. He awoke to the sound of Ralph and Jack arguing over lord knows what. They left camp early with almost all the boys, and Ralph had told Piggy, once again, that he had to stay with Clara.

"We're going," Ralph said, "You can't come. Stay with Clara," At the sound of her name, most of the boys snickered. Piggy made no reply.

"Maurice, you stay behind too," Jack commanded. Piggy was none too pleased about that. Of all the hunters, Maurice was perhaps the nicest, but that really wasn't saying much. A whole day with him _and_ Clara was not going to be pleasant.

"When will you be back?" Piggy tried his hand at the same authoritative tone Ralph had, but it came out sounding whiny.

Jack rolled his eyes, "We'll be back when we're back, blubber. Now let's go," And thus began Piggy's day.

The sun was warm on his back, the sand squelched between his toes, and the sound of the ocean filled his ears. For a moment, all was calm, and then,

"Piggy!" Clara's shriek was piercing.

He groaned and put his head in his hands. The worst of all days...

*

Every night since their first meetings, Jack and Mary had met up on the beach. They spent the night together, and in the morning returned to their respective camps, never breathing a word of their affairs to anyone. Only Genevieve knew, and she would never tell.

Although it was quite obvious that they liked each other, neither was quite willing to admit it, either publicly or to the other. So their midnight meetings remained a secret that they would both have been willing to take to their graves, had it not been for the rather destructive chain of events that followed.

"Hey Jack?" Mary murmured, looking not at him, but at the lightening sky, "What if we got a bunch of big rocks, and spelled out 'help' on the beach?"

"I don't think there's enough rocks for that," he said.

She gave no reply. They sat in silence until their peaceful reveries were broken by the rising sun. Mary got up, dusted herself off, and made to go back to her camp. The girls were still asleep, so there was no food.

The jungle was a dark tangle as she made her way through the trees. It didn't take long for her to get an armful of fruit, and she made her way back carefully, so as not to trip. By the time she got back, a few of the girls were awake; a few heads could be seen bobbing in the water. Mary dumped the fruit in the centre of the ring of logs that the girls had made a few weeks ago.

"Hey Mary," Margaret smiled at her, blonde hair shining in the sun.

"'Morning," she said, "Banana?" Mary proffered her the fruit.

Margaret took it gratefully, "I hardly ate last night," she explained as she devoured it. Mary laughed and gave her another.

By this time, most of the older girls were awake, and they made their way to the pile of fruit. Catherine and Anne, the two youngest, had a habit of sleeping until almost noon, then gorging themselves on anything within sight.

Mary sat beside Margaret on the log, and began poking at the strangely shaped fruit she had come to find was her favourite. This one, however, was overripe and sickeningly sweet. She frowned and tossed it to the ground, taking another.

There was pleasant silence as they ate. As time passed on the island, the girls found they had less and less to talk about. A fact that bothered Mary to no end; she particularly enjoyed talking. Unfortunately, it seemed that the calm of their camp, and the fact that everyone got along, ruined any need for gossip. It was times like these that Mary almost wished Clara were with them.

*

Genevieve left the girls around noon to find Simon. The air in the jungle was hot and suppressive, bearing down on her form, making movement hard. The trees were covered in moss and hanging vines, snaking out from the trees to wrap their tendrils round her body. The going was hard; she had forgotten where their thicket was. More than anything, she wanted to be out of the forest, back on the beach where the air was light and cool, and the sun could kiss her cheeks.

The humming of the insects sent shivers down her spine; they buzzed on her skin, making her flinch, shudder, give soft whimpers of protest.

It felt like hours before she found Simon. He sat on a mossy log with a lizard in his hands. The air was lighter there, cooler, more breathable. The grimace she didn't know was on her face dissolved into a smile.

"Hi Simon," she said.

He turned to face her, "Genevieve," he said, "I thought you weren't going to come," worry stained the edges of his words.

"I couldn't find it," she said, "I was walking forever. The jungle is..."

"_Disgusting, oppressive, terrifying?" _she couldn't think of a word, so she left the sentence to dangle.

Simon seemed to understand, and motioned for her to sit, "I found this little guy," he said, handing her the tiny lizard.

"Oh he's so _cute_," she said, her smile widening as he waddled up her arm. She giggled and handed the lizard back.

"There's flowers here," Simon told her, "I've never seen them before. They're...amazing, like nothing I ever... I dunno. You look,"

Genevieve got up and let her eyes drink the scenery. There were flowers of every imaginable colour, each more exotic, more beautiful than the last. They wept intoxicating scent into the air.

"We must be in heaven," she sighed.

*

Maurice was incredibly bored. Sitting on the beach with the fatties was far from his favourite pastime. He had tried talking to Piggy, but all he got was whining about how the hunters were "So cruel!" and how there was "Obviously not a beast, Maurice!" Then he would start babbling about scientific nonsense, sundials and whatever.

He then tried Clara, half hoping that the rumours about her would be wrong. At first it seemed as if they were. He plonked himself down beside her with a 'hi' that she reciprocated, and then they chatted a bit. "How are you?" "Oh not bad, you?" "Yeah, fine. Some weather, eh?" "Yeah, did you see that storm?" and so on, until they had run out of topics for conversation, which didn't take long. It was then that Clara began asking him about Jack.

"What's he like? Is he a good hunter?" Maurice was obliged to answer these, until finally deciding he had had enough. He excused himself for fruit, and, when Clara's back was turned, ran off to the girls' camp.

He found them lazing in the sun. The older girls were either sitting on logs, eating, or lying on the beach. The younger girls, who looked to be about nine or ten, were playing in the shade, and two particularly small girls, who couldn't have been more than six, were building crude sandcastles. Only Mary was separated from the group, sitting alone in the sand, toying with something metallic.

Maurice was not typically a shy boy, even around girls, but something about seeing these formidable girls, with their attention so focused on other things made him unwilling to approach the groups. Instead, he opted to talk to Mary. At least she was alone.

He approached, and when she noticed him, he saw her fumbling with the thing, as if trying to hide it from his sight.

"Hi Mary," he said, sitting beside her.

She had successfully hidden the thing, "Hi...Maurice?" she was uncertain as to all the boys' names. There were so many of them, and being away from them for so long, she found they mostly looked the same.

He nodded, "Yup,"

She laughed, "I'm bad with names," she explained, "So what's up?"

He shrugged, "You have no idea how awful it is over there with them,"

"Who?"

"Piggy and Clara," he said.

"Piggy's not so bad," she defended him half-heartedly.

"He talks science-y, and he's always saying how bad us hunters are−"

"Why aren't you hunting, anyway?"

He grinned, "They were jealous of my amazing hunting abilities, so they kicked me out,"

She laughed, "Hey, your face..."

"What about it?" he acted offended.

"No, I mean, your face is all painted. It's... well it's really cool," she paused, contemplative, "Would you hunters mind if... I did my face like that?"

He shrugged, "Doubt it,"

"Oh brilliant! How do you do it? Will you show me?"

"Wanna do it now?" he offered

She grinned, "Sure!"

She leapt up, and he led her to the jungle, "Okay, so you take some of this red clay," she scooped a handful, "and... you know, put it on your face," she did so, "Then you can take some of this stuff," he showed her some white gunk from an odd-smelling plant, "And do the same, and that's about it,"

She smiled, her eyes alight with savage fervour, "How do I look?"

The change was shocking; just a moment ago, she had been a rather pretty girl, and in an instant, she was changed. Her eyes took on a strange light, there was a fierceness in her person that had been only half present before, "Amazing," he said, taken aback.

"Oh good!" she smiled, and they walked back to camp.

The girls were astonished by the change, but by and large they liked it, and a few of them opted to paint their faces as well. Their designs were more feminine than Mary's and the hunters, preferring curving lines and pretty frills, but the fierceness was still evident.

Maurice spent the rest of the day with the girls. He found their company more pleasant than Piggy and Clara's. When the hunters returned, Maurice left, and the girls, who had been sitting together on the logs, scattered. The girls heard some loud revelry coming from the boys' camp, but weren't particularly interested it in.

*

When Simon heard the hunters returning, he bid Genevieve 'adieu', and feeling cheerful, gave in to melodrama and cried, "Adieu, adieu! Hamlet- ahem, Genevieve, remember me!" She laughed at his display.

"Oh Simon, you're silly. I'll see you tomorrow," she smiled pleasantly at him, and, suddenly taken by an urge, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

She blushed, and he grinned, "See you tomorrow then," and with that, he left.

Genevieve lingered a bit longer before heading back to her camp. It was nightfall, and she was hungry. On her way, she heard loud noises coming from the boys' camp; violent, savage noises, and she sped up.

*

The girls' nightly feast was punctured by sounds from the boys. There was screaming and singing, and it was, more than anything, annoying. When things had quieted down, the girls were more at ease; although they wouldn't say so, the noises from the boys' camp put them on edge.

Just when things were winding down, they heard Ralph blowing the conch. Then there was a pause, and a few short blasts sounded. Mary frowned.

"I think they want us," she told the girls.

"Is that what that means?" Margaret asked.

"I think so. I'll go check, anyway," Mary told her, and made off to the boys' camp. The boys were sitting uneasily. They regarded her as an outsider, "Did you want us?" Mary asked.

Ralph nodded, "Yeah. We're having a meeting. Jack wants everyone here," he told her. She noticed that his normally even voice was quavering.

"I'll go get them," she moved stiffly. Something about this felt wrong.

The girls took their places in uneasy silence. Even the youngest recognized something was wrong, and held their comments. All were silent but Genevieve, who seemed more nervous than any of the others, and, after scanning the crowd twice, turned to the hunter beside her and whispered,

"Where's Simon?"


	9. Split

**I feel like such a trendsetter, what with all these other more-than-one-girl on the island stories popping up, and they're all so good, too!  
Anyway, rambling time (feel free to skip this bit). A bit ago I had a crazy Lord of the Flies experience. I was on a bus with the grade 7s (long story) and at first it really wasn't much different from the grade 12s, though rather louder. But then as time passed, the kids started getting rowdier and rowdier, until I see this one boy standing up on his seat, aiming something at another boy on the bus, while in plain view of the teacher. These kids can't have been more than 12, and from a private school (like in LOTF) and just being semi-unsupervised they started going ballistic.  
But that's enough of me. Thanks again for all the reviews, you're all super-dee-duper, and though this chapter is a bit shorter, I'll make up for it by posting the next one quickly.**

_Cry "havoc!" and let slip the dogs of war.  
_Shakespeare, _Julius Caesar_, (III, i, 273)

Before Genevieve could receive her reply, Ralph called for silence. There was a tense pause before he began; he was choosing his words carefully.

"The reason I called this meeting is things are starting to break up," his voice was tremulous as he continued, "Things went well for a while, but then…I don't know what happened. We need to fix this, is what I mean,"

The group sat in silence, letting the gravity of his words sink in. One of the little'uns began to cry, and the others joined him. Ralph did nothing to silence them. He seemed stunned, his thoughts clouded by a fog that made perception impossible.

Everyone seemed a bit shocked, but it was Margaret who first recovered, and went to sooth the little'uns with gentle words. After a time they were calmed, and after a brief silence, Ralph began again.

"I mean, everything went so well. I don't know what went wrong, but the only way we'll get rescued is if we get things right again. We can't keep…keep…" he fumbled for words, "Fighting," he mumbled something about civil war that was barely audible.

The wind took the silence that followed as a cue to moan through the creaking trees, sending shivers down everyone's spine. It was late, the little'uns were overtired. Margaret knew about overtiredness well, she had had three younger brothers back home, and when overtired, they were scared more easily, and more overcome by moodiness. She knew this meeting would only serve to augment their already-fearful state. She wanted to stop Ralph before he terrified them more, but the words died in her throat.

"…we ought to do something about this," Piggy was speaking now. The girls noticed that one of the lenses on his glasses had been shattered.

The meeting continued in this fearful, quiet way until finally Jack, who had been peculiarly silent called for the shell. Piggy hesitated, watching the hunter with fearful eye, before lovingly passing it to Ralph, who handed it solemnly to Jack.

He didn't speak right away. He seemed to be savouring the power the conch gave him. When he did speak, it wasn't in the same reverently fearful way the others had, there was no uncertainty in his voice, only the calm force of a natural leader, "I know I'm not the only one who's sick of this," he began, "I know I'm not, and that's why I'm leaving," he paused to let his words resonate, "I'm leaving, and anyone who likes can come with me,"

He watched the crowd watch him. He expected a revolution, a surge of people rising to join him, but he was met with blank stares. He caught Mary's eye, entreating her to join him, but she lowered her eyes. The other girls looked at her, and she shook her head. They didn't get up.

The calm force was replaced by mortification, indignation, anger. He gritted his teeth, gripped his spear so fiercely his knuckles turned white. With a final, hurt look, he turned to leave. The lack of followers was painfully apparent as he made his way down the beach, trying desperately to look noble, but failing miserably.

The crowd watched him leave, Mary with a desperately mournful look that she hoped no one saw, and the others with an apparent lack of understand of what had just happened.

"Good riddance to bad rubbish," Piggy muttered, and Ralph took the conch. Before he could begin, a soft noise, fearfully akin to the one the hunters made, came from Roger's lips.

"_Aiaiaioo, aiaiaioo_"

The call was echoed from somewhere down the beach,

"_Aiaiaioo,_" and Roger melted into the shadows, followed, one by one, by each of the hunters.

The crowd watched this display in awe, and finally, with a gasp of sudden realization, Clara got up, looked around, and ran off after them, shouting,

"Jack! Jack! I'm coming!"

Had the mood not been so sombre, surely they would have laughed, but as it was, her desperate love only served to shoot more unease into their already uneasy hearts.

The meeting ended in silence, and those that remained dissipated quietly, the true meaning of Jack's actions sinking in.

The girls made their way back to their camp, but Genevieve stayed back, waiting for Ralph to be done his quiet conversation with Piggy. Some minutes later, Piggy went off to his shelter and Ralph was left watching the sea.

"Where's Simon?" She asked him, her voice solemn.

Ralph didn't seem to see her; he was watching the black horizon. He answered distantly, "He never came back,"

Genevieve watched him for a moment, but he didn't seem to be paying any attention, so she went back to camp.

The girls went to sleep silently, nobody was in the mood for talking, they seemed to know Jack's actions would affect them, too. The night was silent and thick, weighing down heavily on those that had stayed behind. The hot air seemed to be pushing them deeper into the ground.

The mood was quite the opposite in Jack's lot. The air was light and cool, flapping around them like a gay reveller. They stood atop a hill with the carcass of a pig. With blood and reverent, savage cries, they christened their hill Castle Rock, and to celebrate, capitalized on willing Clara's presence.

*

Morning came too soon for all. The night had been restless, and fear had been twisting in both Mary and Genevieve's stomachs, for similar, but unmentionably personal, reasons. In spite of all that had happened, the girls spent a comparatively cheerful day.

The air that had been so oppressive at night billowed optimistically under the happy blue sky. Other than Genevieve, the girls spent the day in the water, coming in only when necessary. The cool water soothed them, and in no time they were like children, playing happily again.

But the promise of fun was not strong enough to soothe Genevieve's shattered nerves. She ventured into the jungle again, feeling the light air being replaced almost instantly by a thick, damp, hot one.

"Simon?" she called, "Simon? _Simon!_"

She received no response as she crashed erratically through the underbrush. Finally, through what must have been dumb luck, she stumbled over a rock, down a slight hill, and onto a warm, sleeping body, curled up before a bloody head, crawling with flies.


	10. Fearsome Revelry

**In retrospect, I suppose my 'trendsetter' comment might have seemed mean. I didn't mean it to be, and if you took offence, I appologise (sincerely too, not in a Jack way)**

**As promised, chapter ten is up super quick, enjoy!**

**Warning: language, violence, etc...**

_Between the idea  
And the reality  
Between the motion  
And the act  
Falls the Shadow_

T.S. Eliot, _The Hollow Men_

"Simon!" she cried happily, engulfing him in a fierce hug. He opened his bleary eyes and smiled. She wondered vaguely why he had chosen to sleep beneath the disgusting pig head monument.

"What's wrong?" he asked serenely.

"Oh Simon, I thought…" she wasn't sure what she thought, "Oh, I don't know what happened. I mean, I _do_, but… it's so confusing, I have no idea,"

He sat up and put a comforting arm around her figure, "Tell me,"

She recounted the night's events, and when done, sighed mournfully, "I guess I'm kind of happy, about Mary, but even that's not enough,"

"Mary? What about her?"

She looked at him, "I…well, I mean, you know Mary, and how she kind of… you know… with Jack," her face contorted in sadness, "I shouldn't have told you. You can't tell anyone,"

He shook his head solemnly, "I won't. Don't worry, everything will be fine," he lied. He knew Jack well enough to know it wouldn't, but there was no need for Genevieve to know.

For the first time in what felt like years, the knot of worry that had been twisting within her loosened, and she smiled up at him.

"Thank you,"

*

Things were not going quite so peacefully for Mary. She couldn't eat. Her laughter was hollow, her play half-hearted, and now she could hardly even bear to look at food. She had not slept, she had lain on her back, squeezing her eyes tight, as if that would block out the sight of Jack and his hunters and Clara, conjured up by the sound of their revelry that mocked her ears.

She had lain there all night, not moving, trying to decide whether or not to go over, set things right, as it were, but something held her back. Whether it was fear or the fact that she knew, deep down, it was wrong that kept her back, she didn't know. But the morning came, and she was still there, teeth clenched tight, not hungry.

*

Clara awoke with a drowsy smile on her face, "_finally,_" she thought sleepily, "_they like me,_"

She had spent the night with the hunters, each taking their turns with her in the bushes, clumsily assuring her of her place among them. She didn't mind it, because she had finished the night with Jack, and awoke with his arm slung across her ample body.

She was the first one up. Gently disentangling herself from Jack's limb, she stretched, rubbed her sore thighs, and wandered about their messy camp, taking it in for the first time in proper light. They were on a sort of rocky hillock that came to an abrupt, pink, Cliffs of Dover sort of precipice. It was a majestic place, but Clara didn't notice, all she knew was that it must be the best place on the island. It must be, because Jack had chosen it.

It was another hour or so before the hunters began to awaken. They looked around awkwardly, guiltily, not making eye contact with each other or Clara. She got the distinct impression that they were ashamed of their tryst, though she could hardly comprehend why.

It was Roger – thank god for Roger – who broke their awkward shuffling with a meaningful look at Clara and a wicked laugh. It wasn't long before the others seemed to see the mirth in their situation; they nudged each other knowingly and chuckled. Any unkind meaning was lost on Clara, who was much too happy to be included to notice.

Jack was the last to wake up. He did so gracelessly, and with a distinctly unhappy expression on his face. When he caught sight of Clara he looked disgusted, but said nothing. He avoided her as best he could.

When everyone had eaten, Clara was told to watch the camp, and they went hunting, blowing her mocking kisses as they left. She didn't catch the mockery, and blushed. The hunters returned in due time, looking triumphant and carrying a saggy carcass behind them. Their faces had been painted again, and they looked perhaps more fearsome than before. Someone suggested that, since Clara was one of them now, they should paint her face, too. They looked to Jack for approval, and, when granted, took their paint and attacked her face with it. When they were done she looked rather like a clown, but she didn't care. She smiled serenely. She was one of them.

*

Sometime during the day, more and more of the other boys made their way over to Castle Rock to join the hunters. Many were too young to be of any real use, but their faces were painted anyway, and they screamed and fought and revelled in their newfound freedom.

Soon Ralph's numbers had dwindled to at most a dozen, and they knew it wasn't good, but they were powerless to keep them. Jack, it seemed, had won, but Ralph was loath to let Jack take everything. He wouldn't give up without a fight; he wouldn't just let Jack take everyone away from him. What about the fire? The shelters?

"_Eventually,_" he reasoned, "_They'll get sick of it, sleeping outside, no hope of being rescued, and they'll come back. But we don't have time for that, so…_" he frowned, picked up the conch, and blew.

The few that were left straggled in, and Ralph began, "We have to go over there," he said, "Reason with them. They can't just do what they like, they'll destroy the island. We need them, or we'll never get rescued. They have to realize that,"

Piggy motioned for the shell, and spoke, "Maybe we should get the girls to come with us? You know, maybe if they see everyone thinks it's a bad idea…" he looked to Ralph for approval.

He nodded, "That's good, that's good. Yeah, okay. I'll go get the girls, and then we can go,"

The sun was descending slowly as he made his way over. The girls, it seemed, had not been particularly affected by the night's events, though Mary did look a bit wan. Seeing them smiling and looking so oblivious disheartened him, how on earth could he convince them?

But he approached Mary, drew her aside, and, putting on his most authoritative face, stated his case.

"You want us to come with you to get them to…to what?"

"Come back,"

She frowned, and after a moments contemplation said, "Fine. Fine, we'll come. But we're not talking, we're not doing any of the convincing. We'll just be there for show,"

"That's fine," he said, "Thanks,"

She attempted a smile but she was unsure of its success.

*

The rag-tag group made its way towards Castle Rock in a weak imitation of formation. Ralph had attempted to form a line, but his boys straggled, and the girls, who looked much more formidable, walked a ways back, as if unwilling to be seen with them. They had been expecting some sort of barbarism, but nothing they imagined would have prepared them for the animalistic savagery they saw.

Everyone's faces had been painted, they were loud, raucous, the children fought, banged sticks, screamed, the hunters were violently spearing a dead animal, and surveying his kingdom was Jack. He stood atop a rock, motionless, stately, Roger beside him, spear in hand. When one of the hunters saw them approach, he scrambled up the embankment to inform them. Roger cuffed him upside the head and sent him back down.

Jack, followed closely by Roger, approached the group. He looked them up and down, whispered something to Roger, who turned to the nearest hunter and snapped, "Get them some food!"

They scrambled to obey, and in moments they were presented with fruit. Unsure, they hesitated, before Jack said, "eat it!"

They obeyed willingly, and were given a log to sit on. Mary attempted to catch Jack's eye, but he looked away and moved down the beach. With a quick glance at the others, she ran after him, "Jack!"

She reached out to him, but Roger's spear barred her way. She gave him her most fearsome look, but he didn't move.

"You don't talk to the chief, bitch," he spat

The violent light returned to her eyes, "Fuck you, I'll talk to whoever I want,"

The butt of his spear found her stomach, and she landed on the ground with a resounding smack. He cuffed her head with the side of the stick hard enough to draw blood, and leaned dangerously close, whispering, "You need to learn your _place_," and left her.

Clara had seen her mistress being beaten. She stood up, torn between two loyalties, but Roger caught her eye, and she sat back down.

Something was going on with Jack and the boys, but she couldn't be bothered to support them anymore. She got up, dusted herself off, and went to her girls.

"We're going," she told them.

"What happened to you?" Margaret asked in concern, reaching tenderly up to the cut on her brow.

From the corner of her eye she saw Roger looking at her, and said "I fell,"

Margaret knew she was lying but said nothing, only putting a soothing arm around Mary's shoulder and glaring fiercely at Roger as they left.

*

Night fell.

For the first time Ralph seemed to understand the saying; dark did not creep gently over the heavens, it consumed the sky, plunging harshly from one end to the other. They had pig. It was delicious. The cooking fire was made into a bonfire as night fell, and Jack began to tell the story of the beast. Even Ralph's boys - even Ralph - were drawn into it. When he was done, they took up a fearful mime. The slaying of the beast.

Even Ralph joined in. Even Piggy joined in. They couldn't help it. There were screams, torches were lit, and the group surged. The group fought and screamed and moved as one terrifying animal, killing the beast.

One voice rose above the rest, one of the hunters, shouting louder than any other, "Look! The beast!"

Everyone turned to the tree line, and there it was. A small thing crawling from the underbrush, making a noise.

*

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Genevieve asked

Simon laughed, "I'll be fine. I just want to explore a bit,"

"Do you want me to come with you?"

He shook his head, "You go back. I know you hate the jungle,"

She smiled, "Okay,"

When she returned to camp, no-one was there. Their fire was just embers, and night was almost there. With a sigh she attempted to bring them back to life. By the time the fire was burning again the girls were back.

"Where'd you go?" she asked.

*

Simon crawled through the jungle to the place where they'd seen the beast. Up a small hill, down the hill, across the stream – thank god for that log – up another hill, and there it was. He approached slowly, stared in silence for a time, then went back.

It was dark, and it took a long time to find his way to where Genevieve had told him Jack's lot had gone. When he got there he was bent double, his face scratched by brambles. He saw their fearsome revelry, and shouted, "It's just a man! It's a man!"

But they didn't seem to hear, and they started running towards him.

"It's just a man, it's just a–" his sentence ended in a scream, as spear after spear found its way towards him.

* * *

**Was that too much for T? Hope not...**

**Reviews are my cocaine, so please review =)**


	11. Sworn Vendettas

**Alright, I'm really not sure how good this chapter is. Hopefully it's consistant, but I'm really not sure. You know how they say you're supposed to write through writers block? Well that's what I did with this, which is why I'm feeling a little iffy about it. **

**Anyway, some warnings for this chapter: language, violence, mature themes. **

_A single glance: a sudden dart of pain_  
_stitching her eyes before she made a sound . . ._  
Anna Akhmatova, _Lot's Wife_

The girls awoke to the sight of Mary sitting sulkily by the shore. Ever since the boys' rift she had been particularly, uncharacteristically moody. They found her at times angry, then given over suddenly to sadness or petulance. Only Genevieve knew Mary was worried, having known her longer and better than the other girls. She understood that the best thing to do when she was given to these moods was to leave her be. The worst thing would be to provoke her into action.

When Margaret could no longer abide not knowing how the previous night's events had unfolded, she found Jenny and Genevieve, "I'm gonna go over there to see what happened," she told them, "You guys want to come?"

They consented, Genevieve out of genuine curiosity, Jenny simply because she was bored of sitting with nothing to do. "Should we get Mary?" she asked.

Margaret shrugged. Genevieve opened her mouth to inform Jenny this was a bad idea, but she had already left to get her. Mary was seated on a log, poking listlessly at dying embers with a stick. Bored with this, she tossed the stick aside with more violence than was necessary.

"Mary?"

She turned to look, "Yeah?"

"We're gonna go over to the boys' camp to see what happened. You wanna come?"

"Who's 'we'?" She sounded petulant.

"Me, Genevieve and Margaret," she informed her with infinite patience, "Do you want to come?"

"No," Jenny noticed with interest that Mary was pouting. Her lower lip stuck out in childish defiance.

"Alright, well we'll tell you what happened when we get back,"

"I don't care what happened," she was sulky.

With an audible sigh, Jenny turned and jogged to catch up to the others who had begun walking down the beach. Mary watched them go, then turned back to the embers.

Ralph was staring at his hands, "Piggy…" he murmured

The fat boy gave no response. He was working intensely on fixing the shelters, "_I must keep busy, I must keep busy. The only way to cope is to keep busy…_"

"Piggy?" Ralph called again, louder this time.

Looking desperate, Piggy turned to him and stopped working on the shelters, but didn't stop moving. He shook his legs, paced, fiddled with sticks.

"_If he keeps this up maybe he'll lose some weight,_" Ralph thought bitterly, then immediately felt guilty, "Piggy… what happened…"

"It wasn't out fault, Ralph. It was dark, we couldn't see, we didn't know…" he trailed off, desperately seeking reason.

"What we did…what we did back there… that was…that was…_murder_," he whispered the last word. Having said it, he finally seemed to realize the gravity of the situation. His eyes widened and his hands shook.

"No Ralph!" Piggy almost shouted, "No, Ralph, no. We didn't know. It wasn't… wasn't…what you said. It wasn't! We didn't know. It was dark, there was all the shouting. It wasn't… it wasn't!" Piggy was shaking. The knot in his stomach was twisting tighter, "It wasn't us. We were outside. We were on the outside. We didn't. We _didn't_. We can't have..." he was rambling now, repeating himself desperately. He didn't stop until Ralph grabbed him by the shoulders and gave him a vehement shake.

"Stop it! Stop it, Piggy!"

He whimpered, then returned to the shelters, quivering at the knees, _"It wasn't us, it can't have been us. It wasn't us. We were on the outside. We were outside. We didn't know. The shouting. The dark. The dance. It wasn't us..."_

Mary grew impatient quickly. As much as she wished to separate herself from Jack, after the irrevocable slight from the night before, she was still curious as to the results. She was frowning as she thought. She was hurt. It took a lot to hurt her, but somehow the fact that Jack had ignored her, had allowed Roger to hurt her, sent her blood boiling. _"How dare he!"_ she thought, _"I hate him!"_ but it wasn't true, and she knew it.

Jenny had promised to inform her of the fallout from the night before, but it was taking too long for them to return. She scowled, and putting her pride aside for a moment, decided to see what the holdup was. She rose and headed down the beach.

She met the girls midway between the camps. She had not been expecting much, and was shocked to see the odd melange of expressions on their faces. Petulance melted into concern as she saw Genevieve's tear-stained face.

"What happened?" she asked, gently.

Margaret was staring ahead blankly, looking shell-shocked, "Simon..." she whispered, "Simon..." she seemed unable to say more. At the mention of his name, Genevieve began to cry again.

Mary turned to Jenny, her eyes were alight with violent anger, "They _killed_ him," she growled, voice low, "Those bloody fucking _bastards_,"

Mary froze, "Killed...who?"

"Simon," she hissed, "Jack and his _stupid_ hunters," Jenny gritted her teeth. Her lips pressed into a fierce line.

Mary joined Margaret in shock. Her eyes widened and she felt an odd numbness creeping through her, _"Which one was Simon? Why did they kill him? He was that quiet one, wasn't he? He... why would they kill him?"_

They returned to camp in silence. The other girls surrounded them, eager to know the reason for their terrified expressions. By this time, Mary had recovered enough to take control. Margaret sat down heavily, and Genevieve melted into the shadows. No one went after her.

Jenny took her place just behind Mary, looking like a sentinel. Mary spoke with fervent passion. This was her chance to turn the girls against Jack, and take her revenge. "Jack and his hunters are a _plague_ on this island. They've killed an innocent boy, for no good reason. We don't know if they're going to continue this wanton bloodshed, but it seems likely. How long will it be until they turn to us for victims? We need to defend ourselves, and the only way to do that is to destroy them. We need to protect the other boys, and we need to stop Jack," Jenny nudged her gently, "And his hunters," she added, "Jack and his hunters. They're going to destroy us all if we don't stop them,"

One of the girls spoke, "How? How will we stop them?"

"We need to take the other boys into our care. We need to get sticks, for spears,"

Jenny continued, "The only way to stop them is to make them understand that we can beat them,"

"And we _can_ beat them. We're strong. We're not afraid. We'll fight them, won't we?"

"Yes!" they chorused.

"And we'll win, won't we?"

"Yes!"

"Go into the jungle, get sticks and sharpen them. My will be done!" She cried.

"Thy will be done!" they shouted.

When the girls had gone, Mary turned to Jenny and asked, "Why are you so angry?"

"They can't expect to kill people and get away with it," she said.

Mary frowned, "My thoughts exactly," she lied.

Through her tears, Genevieve found her way to where Simon's body lay. Ralph and Piggy had dragged it into the jungle. His clothes were soaked through with blood. Overcome by anguish, she curled up beside him and sobbed.

"Why did they do this to you, Simon?" she whispered. When her tears had dried up, she sat up, and stared blankly into the tangle of jungle. In the silence, she realized what she must do. She got up, and, mustering all the strength she could, she dragged his body through the underbrush to their sacred glade.

She lay his body in the centre of the clearing and folded his arms atop his chest, the way she imagined heroes were lain to rest. Sunlight broke through the branches and bathed the clearing in golden light. A few butterflies flitted through the air. One landed gently atop Simon's body. Genevieve watched the delicate wonder creep slowly over his chest before alighting. She got up and picked a flower.

She held it in her hands, murmuring a few senseless, kind words over Simon, before placing the flower over his body. With a sigh, she left.

The days passed uneventfully. The girls, who had been stirred into action, now found themselves back in their regular routine of lethargy. There was no attack from the boys; the spears they had made now lay useless in a pile by one of the shelters. Both Jenny and Mary had calmed down. Mary no longer wished to destroy Jack; she had gotten over the slight, and now felt silly about her irrational anger. Their days fell into routine again, and the calm from before the calamitous events had returned. Their nightly feasts continued, and all was well.

Feeling particularly happy one day, Mary invited Catherine and Anne along with her to go fishing. They waded in the water pleasantly. The little girls giggled and clung to Mary's legs, splashing each other. With a laugh Mary stopped them, telling them to stay still. A moment's stillness brought curious fish to their legs. The girls giggled and squirmed as minnows nipped gently at their toes.

In the days that followed Simon's death Jack's hunters had grown more rowdy, but also more fearful and obedient of Jack and Roger. Clara was no longer a communal bounty; she sat with Jack and spent her nights with him. There was no questioning and no arguing this fact. Only Roger was unhappy with this setup. He wasn't particularly fond of Clara, the time he had spent with her was less than pleasant. She squirmed too much and screamed too loudly, but she had served her purpose, and now Roger had no one. He felt he deserved some sort of reward for his work. He was just a important as Jack, he knew he was indispensable, and yet he received nothing.

One day, after a particularly quick hunt, Roger was lying on the edge of Castle Rock, watching. He noticed with interest that Mary – pretty, strong Mary – was fishing with two little brats. Seeing her outline against the water gave him a wicked idea. Clara was nothing. Jack had conquered her, but she was easy. To take Mary – strong, proud Mary – _that_ would be an accomplishment.

He crept down the side of the cliff with expert ease. He watched Mary from a distance. Her uniform's shirt had deteriorated to the point that she was practically not wearing a shirt at all. This pleased him, and a slow smile spread over his face. After a few moments of letting his eyes rake in what they could, he sauntered easily to where Mary and the two little girls were.

"Hello, Mary," he said coldly.

She turned around slowly. She looked at him emotionlessly, "Hello, Roger. How pleasant to see you again," her voice was as cold as his. Catherine and Anne hid themselves behind the folds of her skirt, peeking out fearfully.

He bent down to their level, and extended a hand to one of them, "Hello there," One moved farther back, but the other moved towards him. Mary pushed her back, hissing, "Don't you _dare_ touch her,"

He rose and smirked, "It's not them I want to _touch_," his voice was low.

He smiled wickedly as understanding, and then fear, crept into her visage, "Go back to camp," she told them, pushing them away.

"But-" Anne began.

"_Go,_" she said, giving them a shove. Catherine took Anne's hand, and dragged her down the beach.

"What do you want?" she asked coldly, moving out of the water.

"Oh, I think you know," he said.

She gritted her teeth, "Why?" she attempted to stall him. The girls would come for her, she was sure.

The smirk left his face and he glowered at her, "I do what I want," he growled, a hand shooting out to grab her arm. The smirk returned as he added, "I do _who_ I want," he laughed icily.

She didn't move. She met his eyes, they were emotionless. She shuddered, knowing she could have almost understood had his eyes betrayed his lust, his desperate desire. But there was nothing in his eyes, and that scared her. She tried to get away, wrench herself from his grasp.

It was futile. He pulled her close and hissed, "You need to learn your _place,_" he grinned, "and that place...is beneath _me,_"

She shrieked and struggled to free herself. She bucked like a wild mare, but it seemed the more she struggled, the better his grip on her became. In her terrified haze she remembered her whistle.

In a final, desperate movement, she managed to free one arm. Like lightning it shot to the whistle around her neck. She blew. A loud, shrill sound erupted from the tiny thing. In shock, Roger let go a moment. She took the opportunity to run, but he caught her too quickly, and the struggle began again, this time cut short by a few girls rushing down the beach, to see what was going on.

Like wild dogs they set on Roger, freeing Mary and beating him savagely. When Mary recovered she shouted, "Stop!" the girls did so, "Bring him to camp," she ordered.

Captured, Roger was escorted like a slave to their camp.

"Bind his arms and legs," she told them. Creepers were produced, and he was tied viciously, "Now come here, everyone,"

The girls gathered around her, and she began, "A while ago, a bad thing happened, you remember? I told you we had to stop the boys, before they attacked again. Before they attacked one of us. Well, it's happened. They planned an attack, on _me_,"

A chorus of murmurs erupted.

"Roger was sent to kill me," she told them, "And now he must be punished."

The girls took this as their cue to beat him, and they did. Mary watched them with a sort of detached pleasure. _"If I can get them to believe the boys really want to kill us, I can get them to attack. The boys will surrender, and then I'll be queen of this island. Jack be damned, I don't need him to be queen,"_

"That's enough," she shouted, after some time, "Let him go back,"

"Back?" Jenny asked in shock.

"Yes. Escort him halfway down the beach. Keep him tied up, and let him get back on his stomach, like the worm he is,"

The group of girls dragged him down the beach, then let him go. His progress was slow; they jeered and pelted rocks at him.

How he managed to return was miraculous.

Roger stood atop a rock addressing the hunters, "Those girls are vicious and stupid. They need to be taught a lesson. We need to go down there and attack them. We can take them here, and then there'll be enough for all of us,"

Jack listened in interest, "You say they captured you and beat you for no reason?"

"Exactly,"

"Well if that's the case, then they definitely do need to learn some things," Jack said, "Like whose island this really is. Right, Clara?" he sneered, turning to her.

She nodded shyly.

"You're a smart girl, Clara. You know your place. They don't, and that's why we're going to go teach your little friends a lesson. You understand that, don't you, Clara?" She blushed and nodded. No one had ever called her smart before.

"Yes chief," she whispered.

* * *

**Hope you liked it, praise and (constructive) criticism are always appreciated! =)**


	12. When Two Strong Men Stand Face to Face

**New chapter time! I'm updating rather quicker than I would have, because someone named "Mackayla" reviewed and was all like, "Bitch update quicker or Imma pop a cap in yo ass," Well, it wasn't exactly like that, I'm taking creative liberties. **

**Anyway, a warning for this chapter: language, violence, mature content. **

_Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet,  
Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God's great Judgement seat;  
But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth,  
When two strong men stand face to face, tho' they come from the ends of the earth!  
_Rudyard Kipling, _The Ballad of East and West_

For her first time on the island, Mary slept fitfully.

_"Hurry up, Mary! You're going to be late!" my father bellowed from downstairs._

_"Coming," I called down, but I don't think he heard. I grabbed my tie from the rack that held my school clothes and slid it over my head, tightening it in a deft, fluid movement. I straitened my shirt and kilt, then grabbed my blazer. I didn't put it on, it was too hot. _

_"Are you coming?" he shouted again._

_I didn't flatter him with a response. I went from my room into the box room, grabbing the bag I had prepared the night before. It was light. "Your belongings will be sent on the second ship. Take only what you need with you," Mrs. McNaughton had told us. _

_I looked around, hesitating a moment before going downstairs. My father was nowhere to be found. Rose emerged from the kitchen, "Mista Joe be waiting in the car for ye, missus," she told me. I didn't answer. _

_My mother was standing at the front door, "Be good," she told me in the same distant way as if I were going to visit relatives. _

_"Yes mother," the house was hot, but the air outside was so suppressive I thought I might die. The gardener did the best he could, but the flowers at the front of the house were dying. The path down to the car was dusty. The black patent shoes that Mother had ordered to be shined for the occasion were covered in a layer of grime before I even got to the car. _

_Joe stood beside the car and opened the door for me, "Does miss have her valise?"_

_I told him I did, and he closed the door. He got into the front and began to pull away. I watched the house fade into the distance. With a start, I realized I had forgotten something – something important. But I didn't know what it was. _

_"Joe!" I called, "Joe, we have to go back!" but he didn't hear me, and drove on. _

Mary awoke suddenly, heart racing and covered in sweat. She gasped for air as she sat up, shaking. She hadn't thought of home since the crash. Genevieve lay beside her, sleeping peacefully. Mary watched the calm rise and fall of her chest. The slow rhythm soothed her somewhat, but she found she was unable to return to sleep.

Stretching her sore muscles she crawled out of the hut. The sky was clear and the moon shone like a lantern above her head. She walked slowly down the beach towards the water. The ocean was cool and the gentle lapping waves tickled her toes. She wandered down shore, not paying much attention to where her feet brought her. It wasn't until she found she was standing before Castle Rock that she realized how far she had walked.

The hunters must have been asleep, because no sound came from atop the cliff. The jungle, dark and terrifying stood on one side, the ocean, huge and impenetrable to the other. She looked back almost longingly before, with a quite sough, she began to climb.

Atop the rock hunters lay asleep. There was only one shelter. Her heart was pounding, _"Oh god, what am I doing here? Can they hear that sound? What is it? It's so loud, they're going to wake up! Oh... oh that's my heart..."_ she took a few deep breaths and looked around, "_Why am I here?_" She could recognize only a few of the hunters, Maurice, Bill, and Roger, who she noticed with pleasure looked badly beaten. Jack, she realized, must have taken the shelter. But where was Clara? And then she understood.

She felt sick. _"Jack and... Clara? Of all people! That disgusting-"_ there was a rustle behind her. She nearly jumped out of her skin. She turned slowly and fearfully, but there was nothing there. Too terrified and angry to stay any longer, she began to move back the way she came. But, caught up in her thoughts, she lost focus on her movements, and fell indelicately over a rock.

Her heart leapt into her throat and her stomach knotted. She didn't move for a moment, hoping that her stillness would detract any attention away from herself. After what felt like a year of lying on the ground, she moved. She turned around slowly, and was relieved to notice nobody had gotten up. With a relaxed smile, she got up and began to walk away when she heard,

"What are you doing here?"

She froze and turned slowly, finding herself face-to-face with the one person she didn't want to see, "I..."

"What are you doing here?" he repeated.

She lowered her eyes, then seemed to change her mind, and met his, "I'll go where I like," she told him icily.

He sneered "I see you haven't learned your lessons yet,"

"Fuck your lessons. You don't _teach_ anyway. You get _Roger _to do your dirty work. You're a pussy," she hissed.

Jack's eyes grew wild and he slapped her fiercely. The sound was so sharp that she thought everyone would awaken, but no one stirred. She turned and began to run down the side of the mountain, but Jack caught her easily and pulled her back.

"I'm not done with you, _traitor_," he snarled and began dragging her into the tangle of forest. She struggled to get away, but to no avail, and in an instant she went from having branches whipped at her face to her spine aching from sudden, hard contact against a tree.

He pinned her there easily, and began to speak, "So you thought that you could just abandon me? You thought you could just leave me like that? Do you know how _humiliating_ it is to walk down the beach alone like that? You probably don't know much about _humiliation_, do you?"

She neither met his eye nor gave a response. He gave her a ferocious shake, "I asked you a question," he growled, "When I ask you something, you damn well answer, bitch,"

She looked up slowly, met his eye, and spat in his face, "Fuck you," she snarled.

He hit her again, harder this time, then let go of her and turned to go. She slumped to the ground, and called quietly, "Jack,"

He turned, "What?"

She took a deep breath, steadying herself, praying her words wouldn't merit another hit, "Clara?" she sounded spiteful, even to herself.

He stopped and watched her, half lying and half sitting by the tree, strands of hair in her face, bruised and half-clothed, staring belligerently at him. He gritted his teeth, "I need her,"

She laughed, it sounded strangled and cold, "Need her? You _need_ her? That's probably the most use she's ever been in her life," hurt, she continued, "How could you? Clara, of all people! Of every girl on this island, you pick _Clara_ for... for..." unable to continue, she made an angry noise and turned away.

"Well maybe if you'd come, instead of leaving me like that!" he accused.

"Oh don't you turn this on _me_ Jack Merridew," she spat, "Don't you dare turn this on me. Letting your _stupid_ Roger at me –" consumed with hate, she was unable to continue, "Go away," she snarled, her voice quavering with emotion.

He glared at her, then left. When she was sure he was gone, she made her way back to camp, cursing her stupidity.

When morning dawned, Jack was still asleep. Sun shone through the cracks in the hut, dancing on his face. Clara awoke, her delicate movements causing only a gentle rustle. She sat up and watched Jack lovingly for a moment before going outside.

The sun bathed everything in golden light, soft tendrils of warmth crept around her, and a slow, easy smile spread over her face. The hunters were busying themselves with a breakfast of sorts and didn't notice her. She ambled over to where they were, hoping for them to give her pleasant smiles and make small talk. She was disappointed though, as only Maurice spoke to her, briefly, as he handed her a badly bruised banana.

"Hey," he said emotionlessly, "Hungry?" then handed the banana to her.

She accepted it with pleasure and smiled at him, but he had already turned away.

Jack awakened some time later and demanded food. He was presented it almost instantly, with small, respectful bows from the little'uns.

Clara stood close to him, looking up at him expectantly, smiling, but he ignored her. When eventually her presence became a nuisance, he pushed her away, and she took herself to the edge to watch the gentle swell of the sea. Clara was rarely given to contemplation, and now was no exception. She watched the ocean thoughtlessly, staring with blank eyes. It wasn't until she scanned the beach and saw a few of the girls that thoughts began to swirl.

_"There they are. Who's down there? It looks like..."_ she squinted, _"Jenny, Margaret and...oh yeah, that's definitely Mary. I wonder what they're doing. Looks like they're...coming here? Why would they do that?"_ and suddenly she was gripped by a thought, _"What if I'm wrong? Should I have stayed with them? The boys are so...so...oh I don't know the word. But the girls weren't like that. Mary was nice. She was so good to me. Oh god maybe I should've stayed...Oh, no it looks like they're going to see Ralph. Oh well. Anyway I'm fine here, Jack loves me,"_

Of the girls, Margaret was the first to wake up. She bathed in the still cool waters of the ocean. Her hair had been long before the crash, and now her golden tresses hung to her waist. Lolling in the water it floated around her like spun gold. The ocean called to her in its deep, musical voice. She felt the tug of the water, pulling her away. She thought vaguely that she ought to fight against it, but the tide was so soothing she let herself go. Floating on her back, she closed her eyes and let the sun kiss her face.

When the others woke up, it took them a moment to realize Margaret had gone missing. They thought she must have gone swimming, and ignored her absence. Having eaten, Jenny meandered to the ocean, and swam out. Not seeing Margaret, she began to get a little worried. She looked outwards, and saw, what looked like miles away, a figure bobbing on the water.

"Margaret!" she called, "_Margaret!_" she received no response, and with a quick look back, she swam out towards her.

Margaret didn't open her eyes until she felt a cold splash on her burning face. Dazed, she looked, and in her fear, felt herself losing her balance, nearly sinking. A hand grabbed her arm and pulled her up.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" Jenny asked, swimming back to shore, still holding her arm.

"I... I think I fell asleep," Margaret murmured.

"You're an idiot," Jenny said, "Nearly scared me to death, seeing you out there,"

"Sorry," she said sheepishly.

Jenny didn't respond.

When they returned to shore, Mary was standing with her hands on her hips, "What the hell happened to you?" She asked, concerned.

Jenny shook her head, "Margaret decided it would be smart to take a nap. Hey, what happened to you?"

Mary frowned, "What?"

"You're all bruised and cut. Are you okay?"

"Yeah Mary, that doesn't look so good. You were fine yesterday. Were you sleep walking or something?" Margaret didn't ask it jokingly. She came closer and put a gentle finger to her cheek.

Mary recoiled in pain, "What happened?" Jenny asked.

She stood in silence for a moment, thinking. Obviously, she couldn't explain the real reason for her injuries.

"It was..." she stopped, "It doesn't matter, I'm fine. You probably just didn't see it yesterday. Look, we need to go get Ralph and Piggy here anyway," she changed the subject with expert ease.

"Yeah, Ralph," Margaret said, "Maybe we should go now?" she offered.

"Sure. Jenny, you wanna come?"

She nodded, "Is Genevieve...?"

Mary shook her head solemnly, "She's... you know. It's better to let her stay here. Seeing them, you know..." she allowed them to draw their own conclusions, "Marge, did you eat?"

With her reply that yes, she did, the girls began their walk down the beach.

_"Soon enough," _Mary thought, _"Soon enough Jack and his stupid hunters will rue the day they crossed me. This island will be mine,"_

"Did you sleep well, Ralph?" she asked with a smile.

* * *

**Okay, I think that might have been a bit of a filler-ish chapter, and if it was, my most sincere apologies. It will be less like that next chapter.**

**Review, mi amore!**


	13. War

**Alright, I'm sorry that took so long, but I've been terribly busy with AP exams and the school play, which is (drumroll, please) Lord of the Flies!  
Anyway, I wasn't even going to update this today, but Mackayla (again) started bitching that I'm taking waay too long. So for her sake, because she's obviously cool, you know, because she likes my story, I updated.  
Anyway, this one isn't very long, sorry. And also, this story is drawing to a close, so yes, I'm almost done! Yay!**

_Nos larmes coulent dans la solitude  
Le ciel est loin et la terre immense  
inutile de chercher ici et là  
Nous n'aurons plus d'ancêtres di n'enfants  
_Ying Chen, _Les lettres Chinoises_

_Our tears flow in solitude  
The sky is far and the earth vast  
It is futile to search here and there  
We will have neither ancestors nor children_

Ralph looked up from the squiggle he was tracing in the sand, "Hi," he said dully. A mop of blond hair obscured his eyes. Had the girls been able to see them, they would have seen the mournful look he gave the ground.

"May we sit?" Mary asked as a formality. She had already seated herself beside him.

Ralph nodded, not looking up from what he was outlining in the warm sand. Mary peered over his shoulder at it. It was a bonfire. In a quick movement, he ran his hand over the drawing and it was gone. Margaret and Jenny joined Mary in sitting.

Piggy had crept out of his shelter and watched the proceedings at a distance.

"Ralph," Mary began, speaking gently, "I think you might know why we're here,"

He looked up at her and murmured, "No..."

"Well, you see, Ralph..." she sighed, "Well Ralph, I know you know about what's been going on. Maybe not all of it, but you know what counts anyway. And what counts is that Jack is–"

"I know what Jack's been doing," he growled, "Look at our camp,"

For the first time, the girls turned and looked at the space behind them. Only one shelter remained. The others had been razed; their debris lay scattered on the ground.

Jenny gasped, "The fire? They didn't...?"

Ralph shook his head, "They did. It's gone. They took our fire and they took Piggy's glasses," he seemed beyond anger, his voice held no note of emotion, "Now what did you want?"

The girls looked to Mary, who spoke calmly enough, but there was a quaver of emotion in her voice, "They've done their last. We're not going to let them walk all over us. Not anymore. It's _war_, Ralph. And we want you with us,"

He watched her as she spoke, noting the passion in her voice, "What are we going to do?" he asked.

"Whatever is necessary," she said solemnly.

There was a brief silence, then he asked, "This isn't just about..." he had trouble saying the name, "Simon, is it?"

"No,"

He inched closer, half trying to comfort her, "What happened?" he asked tenderly.

She looked up at him, all the fierceness he knew returning to her eyes, "Roger tried to r–" she stopped herself, "Tried to kill me,"

He caught his breath, "_Kill_ you?" She nodded. He glanced back at his ravaged camp, "We'll help you," he said firmly.

"Thank you," she sounded genuinely sincere.

"What are we going to do?" he asked again.

She shrugged, "You think of something, call a meeting, maybe. Talk it over. Whatever it is, we'll stand behind you," the girls nodded, "We're going to go back, now. We have to talk too. We'll see you later, okay?"

"Sure," he said, "We'll beat them," he told the girls as they got up, "We will, I know we will," he sounded so sure that no one dared contradict him.

When the sun had blurred the girls' retreating backs, Piggy ventured forth, seating himself next to Ralph, poking at the sand with a plump finger.

"Ralph?" the boy looked up, "Ralph, we have to get my glasses back. Call a meeting, Ralph. We have to. We're still civilized, we'll show them, Ralph..." his lower lip was quivering.

Silently, Ralph stood and made his way over to where the conch lay in the sand. He picked it up, freeing it of dirt, and put it to his lips. He hesitated a moment before blowing. More than anything, he was afraid.

Uncertainly, he pressed the shell to his mouth, and blew. The note was shaky and unsure, betraying his insecurity. From the ruins of their camp, Sam, Eric, Percival and a few other nameless little'uns emerged. They trailed after Ralph and Piggy to their makeshift auditorium, seating themselves around their leaders in reverent silence.

Cradling the conch in his arms, Ralph began, "I called this meeting because we all know bad things have been going on," they nodded in agreement, "A few of the girls came over, they said they would help us to... to beat Jack's lot. The thing is, I don't know what to do,"

At this, the children felt their stomachs drop. Ralph was their leader. If he didn't know what to do, they would be ruined.

Piggy took the conch gently and spoke, "I can't see without my glasses. I'm blind because of them," near to tears, he continued, "We need to go up there, take our conch and go up there. I'll tell 'em. I'll tell 'em, 'you have to give my glasses back, it's not right, you takin' 'em like that,' and they'll give 'em back..." he stopped, his words strangled by oppressed tears.

Ralph put a gentle hand on Piggy's shoulder. He handed the conch back, and let a few tears trail down his dirty face.

"We'll go, then," Ralph said, "We'll get the girls and we'll go,"

"Now?" Percival asked.

"Yes," Ralph said, "Now,"

The girls sat around Mary, listening to her impassioned speech. She told them about the damage Jack's hunters had wreaked upon Ralph's camp, explaining that it was absolutely necessary for them to help the boys. By the time she was done, the girls were ardently willing to help.

"Ralph will tell us their plan, and we'll stand behind him, won't we, girls?"

There was a clamour of assent. One of the younger girls called out, "Look!"

They turned to look where she was pointing. Ralph, Piggy, Samneric and a few little'uns were walking in a straggled line towards their camp. Mary approached them, taking blind Piggy by the arm and leading him to their circle.

"What's the plan?" she asked.

Ralph addressed the crowd of girls. They listened, but noticed that Ralph was nowhere near as coherent and interesting as Mary. The girl who saw him first found herself wondering how anyone could have found him a good leader, "We're going to be going to... uh, Jack's camp–"

"Castle Rock," Mary interrupted.

"Right, Castle Rock, to get Piggy's glasses back," Ralph said lamely.

The girls looked at each other, then at Mary, who gave the hesitant girls an exaggerated nod.

"Alright Ralph," Mary said firmly, "Lead the way,"

He nodded and began to walk down the beach. Everyone trailed after him. Mary walked beside him, but suddenly gripped by a thought she broke away and ran to the back of the procession.

Catherine and Anne were walking side by side at the back, "Cat, Annie, I want you to stay back, okay?"

Anne looked up at her petulantly, "Why?"

She bent to their level, "It might be dangerous, and I don't want you getting hurt. Understand? You can guard the camp, okay?" she smiled at them, trying to make them understand.

They sulked, "We want to come with you," Catherine whined.

"Girls, please. You need to stay back here, you have a _very_ important job to do," they looked at each other, "You need to..." Mary struggled for a moment, "You need to watch the fire," she said.

The girls shared a secret look, then Anne said, "Okay Mary, we'll stay,"

Mary smiled and gave them a hug, "Good girls," she said.

Mary ran to catch up to the others. The girls stood, watching the line snake its way down the beach. When they were nearly out of sight, they began to run silently after them, hiding behind trees.

"We're like spies," Catherine whispered, giggling as they followed them towards Castle Rock.

* * *

**Review before I break your head open. No, I'm kidding, I'd never do that! =)**


	14. Blind Sight

**I am _so_ sorry I took so long in updating this. I haven't even really got an excuse this time. I guess I've just been lazy. Ah well, such is life!  
I'd like to thank everyone that reviewed, because you're all super, and especially Mackayla, because your reviews are always along the lines of, "update, fool!" and that gets me on task. =)  
****As you know, this story is drawing to a close, and I'd just like to thank everyone for their continued support and awesomeness. Thanks guys!  
**

**And now, on with the story.**

The tears of the world are a constant quantity. For each one who begins to weep, somewhere else another stops.  
Samuel Beckett, _Waiting for Godot_

Roger stood as a sentry, watching the island from atop Castle Rock. His face was humourless; the paint obscured any features that could have at any prior time been called good-looking. He took the job seriously, he didn't move from his position, even when a cold wind began to harangue his half clothed body. The icy claws lifted his hair, tossing it in front of his eyes, tearing at his dirty, bloodstained shorts, beating his chest like an external heart. The wind tossed dirt into his eyes, stinging them, but still he didn't move.

Below, he saw a line making its way down the beach. His fingers tightened around his spear, and he inched forward, watching with emotionless eyes. The group looked pathetic, he thought, pathetic and useless. If they were trying to look powerful they were failing miserably.

They reached the rock in due time, and Roger called down, "Who goes there?" There was no smile playing on his face.

"Don't be silly! You know who we are!" Ralph called up to him.

Roger laughed without mirth, "What do you want?"

Ralph didn't give an answer, instead climbing the harsh face of the rock. When he reached the spot where Roger was standing, he found the length of a spear blocking his way.

"I want to speak to Jack," he said, mustering as much authority as he could.

Roger sneered, "The chief doesn't meet with just anybody,"

Ralph's boys climbed up behind him and made as menacing a ring around him as they could. Piggy, blind and terrified, called up, "Ralph?" Roger saw Mary move towards Piggy and put a comforting hand on his shoulder, murmuring something. Roger met her eye and smiled wickedly at her. She gave him an icy stare in return.

Mary saw Jack descend from above like a king; head held high, saying, "What do you want?" Unseen from below, Clara watched the proceedings from behind Jack.

"You took Piggy's glasses and you broke up our camp!" Ralph was livid at Jack's apparent calm, "We'd have given you fire if you'd asked for it! You had no right to do what you did! You had no right!"

Jack ignored him, "This is our end of the island," he said, "Go back to where you came from,"

"We're not here to make a war," Ralph implored.

"Too late," he heard Roger taunting behind him. He half turned to face him.

"What's the spear for, then?" Jack sneered.

"To teach you a lesson if you try anything," Ralph growled, trying to sound menacing.

If Jack was afraid, he didn't show it. A smile played on his lips as he said, "Go on then, teach me," Ralph lunged at him wildly, throwing all his weight forwards.

Below, Piggy began inching his way along the side of Castle Rock, feeling blindly.

"Piggy?" Mary moved towards him, "Do you want me to guide you?"

"No," he said, "You go up there, I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded, and with a final glance, she began scaling the rock, and the other girls followed her lead.

Jack dodged Ralph's dive easily, and hit him with his spear.

"Don't you touch him, Jack Merridew!" one of the twins cried.

"Or what?" the mocking voice of one of the hunters asked from above.

"Or – or we'll really teach you!" the other twin yelled, and they made for Jack.

Above the other boys' jeering, Jack could be heard shouting, "Tie them up!"

The twins were taken easily by Roger, who bound them together with ropes from the trees.

"Stop it you're –"

"Hurting! It isn't –"

"Fair it isn't! Please!" the twins cried

"Who said anything about," Roger tightened the bonds fiercely, "_fair_?"

"I did!"

The new, clear voice was enough to startle everyone into silence. Jack and Ralph, panting, separated themselves and stood side by side, wary but unmoving. Everyone looked to find the source of the speaker.

"I did, and you'd better listen, Ralph. And you too, Jack Merridew, I got the conch!"

At this, one of the hunters broke the silence, saying, "Your stupid conch doesn't count here, fatty!" The boys broke out into loud hooting and jeering.

"Shut up!" Piggy shouted. And miraculously, they did. After a moment, he continued, "A lot of bad things been happening on this island. And you, Jack Merridew, you're the cause of it! What's better? To have rules and agree? Or to hunt and kill?"

One of the hunters yelled, "Hunt and kill!" and the others broke into laughter, pelting stones at blind Piggy, who didn't know where they were coming from.

"Shut up!" He shouted again. This time, they didn't listen. As Piggy tried desperately to be heard above the din, Roger abandoned the twins and crept up the rock, watching Piggy from behind a boulder.

"...pack of painted niggers!"

Roger leaned against the rock.

"Law and rescue, or..."

The rock moaned in resistance.

"...sensible, like Ralph is?"

The boulder rocked back and forth, gaining momentum.

"You're acting like a crowd of kids!"

The stone was let loose, falling heavily down.

"Whee-aa-oo!" Roger cried.

"Ralph!" Piggy screamed. The rock hit his side, and he was sent flying, almost comically, tumbling over himself. There was a quiet, anticlimactic thud as he hit something.

The group stood in silence, shocked. It was Ralph who first found his voice.

"Murderers!" he screamed, "Murderers! Murderers!" and he ran past Jack, into the bushes.

Jenny and Mary were shocked out of their daze by Ralph's cries. As he passed, they saw tears streaming down his face.

"You killed him!" Jenny screamed, "You killed him!"

"Murderer! You killed him you murderer!" Together, they ran at Roger, beating him, screaming, crying.

Jack's voice was cold and commanding, "Tie them up,"

Boys swarmed the rock from above, grabbing whoever they could. The girls scattered wildly, some escaping into the trees. In minutes it was over, and Mary, Jenny, Genevieve, Margaret, and a number of other girls had been tied at the wrist. They were chained together by the ropes and led like dogs up to the encampment. The boys stood on either side of the procession, headed by Jack and Roger, and as the girls passed, they jeered, threw rocks and spat, laughing.

Clara stood awkwardly, watching her friends being led upwards. As Mary passed her, her face contorted in hatred, and she mouthed, "_traitor,_"

Clara lowered her head and did nothing to prevent their passage. Mary was no longer her mistress.

The girls were pushed roughly into seated positions, and although none spoke, Jack produced his knife and cut gags from what had once been a choir member's cape. He tied them tightly, leaving only Mary un-gagged. He stood in front of her, looking at her curiously. He let the ribbon of black tumble gently to the ground. When Mary opened her mouth to speak, he said,

"If I hear you, I'll cut off your tongue," there was no violence in his voice. He spoke flatly, almost sadly.

She watched him go, almost wishing he had gagged her. The wickedly knowing looks the boys shot in her direction made her all the more ashamed of the hot tears that fell silently onto her lap.

Mary sat for what felt like years, but in reality was no more than five minutes, before she lifted her head. Roger was the reason.

"Hey boss," he called, "I found these two in the bushes. What d'you want me to do with 'em?" he produced to small, crying girls, shoving them forward with such force that one fell to the ground.

Mary's eyes widened in fear, "Tie them with the others," Jack said emotionlessly.

"Hey chiefy," Roger said, "I got the conch,"

Jack watched him warily, "The conch doesn't count here,"

"I know. Hey, catch!" he threw it at him.

"It doesn't count," he said again, tossing it back listlessly.

Roger chuckled, "I know chiefy. Hey, look!" he said, taking the conch against a rock. He hit it a few times before it shattered, and he laughed.

No one said anything, and Roger scowled. He moved back to where the two girls were seated on the ground, crying into each-other's shoulders. He hoisted them up easily, one of their arms in each hand, and dragged them over to the other girls. Mary was the first in the line of girls, and he tied them at the opposite end, letting his gaze linger a moment on Mary. He smirked, but she said nothing, lowering her gaze.

She felt her stomach knotting; Catherine and Anne had been caught. She sat silently, trying to think. She didn't want the girls hurt, and in desperation realized she would have to save them.

She opened her mouth to speak, but the words died in her throat. She tried again, but the words were so heavy they fell to the ground, unheard. "_Third time's the charm,_" she thought sourly, and tried again.

"Jack?"

He turned, and she half expected him to take out his knife, but he didn't.

"I..." she was terrified of continuing, but looked at the girls bound beside her, and mustering all the strength she could, said, "I want to speak to you,"

She was ashamed of how weak her words sounded.

Jack approached. The other boys made to follow, but he motioned for them to go back to what they were doing.

He stood above her for a moment, looking down. She met his gaze, but could not hold it, and looked down shamefully.

He bent over and in a quick, fluid movement, cut her bonds. He took her arm firmly and led her away, his back to the curious stares the boys gave him.

He led her to his shelter, and seated her on the floor. He handed her a coconut shell filled with water. She held it in her hands and stared blankly at it. She was thirsty, but could not bring herself to drink.

Jack sighed, "What do you want?"

Mary was shaking. She didn't realize it until a bit of water spilled onto her leg, "Please, Jack," she said, disgusted by how whiny she sounded, she tried to control her voice, "Please, let them go. They didn't do anything. Please,"

He regarded her coolly, "And if I let them go, what do I get in return?"

She sat very still, bit her lip and said quietly, "Me,"

* * *

**Did you like it? I damn well hope so. =D Review, s'il vous plait!**


	15. In Their Eyes

**I'm kind of dragging this on longer than I thought I would. Originally, chapter 15 (this one) was going to be my last, but first Mackayla and now Lauren are bugging me about updating, so for their sake I've split what would have been the last chapter into two shorter chapters. So yes, this one is a bit short, but hey, at least I updated, right?  
Also, if I haven't mentioned you in my incredibly interesting notes, it's because you have a fanfiction account, so if I want to tell you how awesome you are for reviewing, I can. But with Mackayla and now Lauren I can't so don't feel bad, because I love _all_ of you. =)**

_I suppose sooner or later in the life of everyone comes a moment of trial. We all of us have our particular devil who rides us and torments us, and we must give battle in the end._  
Daphne du Maurier, _Rebecca_

Genevieve sat in silence. Her tear-stained face was turned to the ground and she paid no attention to the frightened girls on either side of her. To her left sat Catherine and Anne, huddled into each-other, sobbing in abject fear. She wished she could comfort them, but it would be futile to comfort another when it was she that needed comforting.

Margaret was tormented by the sound of Piggy's shriek. Every time she closed her eyes she saw him again, falling to his death, screaming. She tried not to close her eyes, but with her eyes open she could see Clara, and she couldn't decide which was worse. There was a knot in her stomach that was so painfully worrisome it threatened to dissolve her into a nervous mess.

Jenny dug her nails into her palms, trying desperately to not think about what had happened. She stared ahead, seeing nothing. She vaguely realized that Mary had been taken away somewhere, but whatever had passed was understood only through a cloud of fog. When her palms began to bleed from her nails she turned her head down slowly to see the blood seeping out of her hand. She shook in horror. The blood reminded her of Piggy, and she started to cry, realizing that it would be them to die next.

Clara watched the boys at a distance. They moved about nervously, their backs arched like cats, twitching when they bumped into each other. She didn't dare look to where the girls were tied. She couldn't stand to see their accusatory faces; she knew the hatred in Mary's eyes would be burned into her thoughts forever. She saw Maurice standing at the edge of the precipice, staring down. She began walking towards him, but her path was cut by Jack, leading Mary away. Clara stepped back quickly and lowered her eyes, but her actions were in vain – Mary could see nothing. She looked up at them when they had passed. Something in her stomach tightened, and she felt sick. She watched them until they disappeared into Jack's shelter. She turned away to meet Maurice at the cliff's edge, but he was gone.

Jack watched Mary silently. Her head was bowed, and he realized that this was the first time he had ever seen her looking small and vulnerable. Something made him want to cup her head in his hands and reassure her, but he couldn't. Instead, he sank down to her level and put a finger under her chin, lifting her head. She drew back quickly, then froze and looked up, eyes filled with pleading.

"You want them to go free," Jack said.

It wasn't a question, but his statement seemed to desire an answer so she said quietly, "Yes,"

"And in return, I get you?"

"Yes,"

A smile twitched on his lips, unseen by Mary, "But then what will I do with Clara?" his words were spoken mischievously.

The hard light returned to her eyes and she looked up at him, "You could give her to Roger," she spat the name, "but even he's too good for her," Mary's voice was ice.

"Well then, Mary, it seems we have a deal," he smiled and extended a hand to help her up. She ignored it and stood on her own.

"You haven't changed at all," he said pleasantly.

"Why should I have?" she asked, "It's _you_ that's changed,"

He chuckled coldly, "If you'd just come with me, none of this would have happened,"

She glared at him and tried to push past out of the shelter, but he put a firm hand on her arm, "When you give yourself up," he said, "You have to understand that you're no longer in charge." He jerked her closer.

"Jack–" she protested weakly.

He put a strong arm around her back and kissed her. Something in Mary flared. It wasn't anger or hatred, as she expected, but passion, and she was mortified.

"_Of all times to fall in love with him again!_" Terrified of what this would bring, she pushed him off roughly.

In panic, her voice was desperate and pleading, "Another time, Jack. Please, just let them go,"

His eyes were hard, "Don't think there won't be another time," he moved to leave the shelter, and she followed, but he stopped her, "You stay here," She obeyed, sitting down and for the first time on the island, she cried.

Jack strode outside coolly. The boys watched him fearfully as he moved past. He motioned for Roger to follow him, and they stopped in front of the girls. He spoke with unquestionable authority,

"You're going free," he said, "If I ever catch any of you near here, no matter why, I won't give you the honour of being tied. I carry my knife everywhere, and I'll use it anywhere. Understand?" They nodded mutely, "Roger, untie them." He did so, and Jack said, "Leave, now, and never _ever_ come back,"

They got up to leave, but Genevieve turned back, "Mary...?"

"She's staying here,"

Genevieve's eyes widened, and she started towards him, but Roger brought his spear down in front of her.

"Mary's staying here, and you won't be seeing her again. Now unless you have a death wish, you'd better _leave_," Jack said coldly.

With a last, terrified look around their camp, in a desperate attempt to find Mary, she left, disappearing into the trees like a shadow.

Roger turned to Jack, "When did all this happen?" he asked icily.

Jack flashed him a warning look, "Just now,"

"Hm," Roger made a disapproving noise, and began to walk away.

"Stop," Jack ordered. He did so, turning back unhappily. Jack spoke loudly, "Everyone, come here," The boys stopped their senseless movements and made their way over to where Jack was.

Maurice spoke quietly and fearfully, "It was miles down there. His legs are all twisted up and his head is against a rock. There's stuff coming out..." he trailed off.

"He's fat as pig!" Henry said with a smirk.

"Dead pig, more like!" Bill said, and most of the boys laughed.

"Enough!" Jack snapped, hitting the closest laughing boy with the butt of his spear, "We're gonna do something now. Something good,"

"What's that, then?" Roger asked.

"Shut up!" Jack snapped. He was about to hit Roger, but the look in his eyes stopped him, and he brought his hand down. There was a brief silence, then he spoke,

"I can tell when the beast has got into someone. It's in their eyes. I can tell by looking at them, I can tell by looking. And when the beast is in someone you have to kill them. First it was in Simon, and it was okay that we killed him, because the beast was in him. And then it was in... the fat one, and that was okay too. And now it's -"

"It's not hanging in the air around one of us, is it, Chief?" Roger asked, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, "It's not hanging in the air around..." he snuck up behind his victim, "Maurice, is it?"

Maurice jumped in terror, "Stop it!"

Roger laughed, "It's a joke. You laugh at jokes, _don't_ you?" he asked wickedly.

Sourly, Maurice said, "Not your jokes,"

Roger leaned in menacingly, "Oh you'll laugh at my jokes. You will" he growled.

Jack's face hardened, and he shot a look at Roger, who unwillingly moved away, "It's in Ralph, and we'll have to hunt Ralph,"

* * *

**Review? Please? Because next chapter is the last, and I plan on writing a little pleasant note about every reviewer, to make you feel loved and special. =)**


	16. The Inevitable

**Well, this certainly too long enough, but yes, I've finally updated. I'd like to apologise for the incredible gap between this chapter and the last. Exam time was so hectic I hardly had time to **_**breath**_**. Nevertheless, here it is, the final instalment. I hope you enjoy it. **

**And, as promised, the thank-yous:  
****HermioneLennon – You have been my most consistent reviewer, ever since chapter one. You rock, thank you!  
****RandomChiq700 – You get special props for giving me the new title to my story. Thank you!  
****Laserfire – You have been consistently the most awesome reviewer for your praise. You rock, thank you tons!  
****Mackayla – Thank you for your bitching about how I don't update often enough. It always encourages me. Thank you! =)  
****EmStar202 – Your reviews have always been honest, and your opinions on what you'd like to see happen have fuelled the plot greatly. Thank you!  
****adara- dzhennet95 – I'm glad you think my story is the "BEST...EVER". Thank you!  
****LadyGaGaFan/Lauren – Thank you for your reviews, and I'm really glad you like my story. You rock, thank you! Also, you get bonus points for Lady GaGa.  
****Odo Banks – Thank you for being my first reviewer!  
****Misaki Akiyama – Thank you for your review, I remember it made me happy to read. =)  
****FashionOnMe – You're cool, thank you for reviewing, and I'm glad you think my "girls are so freaking interesting" =D  
****27madeleine27 – Thank you for your reviews. I know you've had to take a break for school and all, and I hope your scholarly endeavours go well. =)  
****LaLa-In-wAnDeRlAnD – Your enthusiasm has not gone unnoticed. I'm sorry I killed off Simon.  
****LycanLover – Your reviews have always made me smile, thank you!  
****KamilleBlack – Thank you for your review. =)  
****LipsLikeCodeine – Thank you for your review, you rock!  
****dancelvr234 – Thank you for your review, I'm really glad you like the story. =)  
****Rachel Mantegna – Thank you so much. You said "update SOON," I hope this is soon enough. =)**

_Remember us – if at all – not as lost  
__Violent souls, but only  
__As the hollow men  
__The stuffed men._

T.S. Eliot, _The Hollow Men_

Genevieve stood at the edge of the girls' camp, watching. The happy shrieks that usually engulfed the area were no more. Most of the girls were silent. Some cried. Genevieve could not bring herself to cry. She just watched.

Something inside her had been turned off. First Simon, now Piggy. Of course, Genevieve had hardly known Piggy, but the sound of his dying scream still echoed in her brain. Backed by the senseless tattoo of the hunters, she heard the sound a thousand times.

"_I'll never sleep again,_" She thought, "_Every time I close my eyes I see him._"

In silence, she watched the crowd of girls, never seeing them. She stood until her she began to ache. She stood until the wind whipped sand into her eyes. She stood until she saw the ghostly spectre of Piggy's body floating not two feet ahead of her. Then she fell down.

Mary sat cross-legged in the dirt of Jack's shelter, her heavy head buried in her hands. She couldn't bring herself to move. She knew that the boys were much too busy with their plans to guard her. She knew that if she were quiet enough she could sneak out of the shelter and back to her camp. But she couldn't move. Perhaps, she thought, Jack had known motion would be beyond her capabilities. She didn't know how long she sat like that. Eventually her eyes closed, and she slept.

A scream brought Jack away from his tribe, with the short, sharp declaration that none were to follow him. He came into his shelter and saw Mary looking up at him in terror. Movement finally found her limbs and she scrambled back in fear.

"Please," she begged, "It was a dream, I'm sorry, please, don't, please!"

Jack didn't know what Mary thought he was going to do, and regarded her as a child regards a strange animal at the zoo. He was lost for words by her strange, fearful outbreak. All he knew was that he preferred the powerful Mary he had known before. He watched her for a time.

When she had recovered, she stood shakily and said, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that," But she stayed where she was.

"What happened?"

Her mouth twisted up and she looked to the ground, ashamed, "I had a dream," she mumbled so quietly he could hardly hear.

"What about?" he asked, coming closer.

She shrank back and said nothing. Jack's hand found her shoulder. She flinched.

"What did you dream?" His voice was softer, but there was no mistaking the power that still ran through them.

"P-P-Piggy," she whispered.

Jack stood frozen for a moment, before taking her into his arms, and saying,

"It's okay, Mary. That wasn't Piggy. That was the beast," he reassured her, but Mary shook, not knowing whether to believe him.

But he continued to explain, and eventually Mary, so shaken and terrified, began to believe him. She found comfort in the strong arms that held her close. It had been so long since she'd felt human comfort. But she mistook the reason for his strong embrace. It was not a method of comfort, but a measure against her squirming away.

She began to relax. She let her head rest on his shoulder and closed her eyes. Still holding her tightly, he brought a hand up to stroke her head. She smiled.

"You see Mary, you're safe here," he murmured.

They stood for a time, until Jack realized he would have to go back to the boys. Reluctantly, for he had never truly stopped caring for Mary, he let go of her, saying,

"Stay here,"

She nodded, sitting down and finally feeling calm.

"_Piggy is alive somewhere on the island. That wasn't Piggy, it was just the beast_" She smiled serenely and fell asleep.

Clara had been replaced. She realized this when she saw Mary being lead to Jack's shelter. The shelter she used to share with him. She realized this when Mary screamed, and Jack came running, passing her without a second glance. She realized this when she had no place to go, and was left by the wayside.

Jack left the shelter looking flustered, and strode past her again, back to the ring of expectant boys. She stood watching for a time, hoping that perhaps they would call her forward to join them. When they did not, her lower lip began to puff outwards sulkily, and her brow knitted in displeasure. Her distorted face was horrid to behold.

In her unhappiness she resolved to visit Mary. With a last, sidelong glance at the boys, she approached the shelter that used to be hers. She found Mary sitting on the ground, picking dirt out from the undersides of her nails.

"Hi Mary," Clara said, hoping to sound nonchalant, but coming off scared.

She looked up from her hands and said nothing for a moment, watching the lump that stood before her, wringing her hands and looking at her feet, "Clara," Mary returned coldly, before refocusing her attention to her nails.

Clara stood. She couldn't recall the reason she had come, but she couldn't very well leave so quickly, "I'm sorry about..." She trailed off for a moment, trying to think about what she should apologise for that would make her former mistress see her in a better light, "Your friend," she finished tremulously.

Mary looked up and said sharply, "What friend?" A knot growing in her stomach as she wondered what Clara might have done.

Her eyes widened, "Piggy," she said, in a queer, high voice.

"That wasn't Piggy," Mary said calmly.

For the first time, Clara seemed to understand what had happened, and she began speaking rapidly, "What do you mean that wasn't Piggy of course it was Piggy I saw it you saw it everyone saw it they were there when Roger dropped that rock oh god oh god Roger killed someone Roger killed Piggy Piggy's dead he's _dead_ Mary Roger killed him how can you say it wasn't Piggy you saw him you saw him fall oh god oh god!" Clara ended her speech with a shower of tears.

"Oh Mary," she moaned, "Oh Mary he's dead!"

Suddenly, Jack's reassurances seemed weak, and Mary said quietly, "It wasn't the beast?"

Clara frowned through her tears, "What beast?"

In terror, Mary said, "Clara, we're leaving," rising quickly.

She wiped away her tears with the back of a dirty hand, leaving a smear of dirt across her cheeks, "What do you mean, leaving?"

The old Mary was back, "Clara," she said, in her warning tone.

"But... Jack...?" She protested weakly. At his name, Mary stiffened visibly, and Clara could see she had touched a nerve.

"Clara," Mary repeated, her voice dangerously low.

She bowed her head and mumbled, "Okay,"

Mary came forward, taking Clara harshly by the arm and leading her out. Seeing that the boys were still very much involved in their meeting, Mary dragged her away silently through the bushes.

When Genevieve regained consciousness, she sat up, spat out a mouthful of sand, and, her nerves shattered, decided to return to the glade Simon had shown her. She didn't know the way, but somehow she managed to find it anyway. Under the moonlight the clearing was aglow with unearthly light. Although she knew this was where he had been laid to rest, Simon's body was not there. In his place grew a flowering plant that shone, perhaps from the moonlight, perhaps not. She sat for a time, allowing herself to rest.

The unearthly meadow soothed her, and she felt her eyes closing. She slept without fear of hearing Piggy's scream. When she awoke the moon was at its zenith, and she felt calmer than she ever had. The glade cleared her mind for constructive thought, and she decided that she had to save Mary, no matter what the consequences.

In the clearing, Jack's threats seemed a faraway triviality, and she felt strong. Her person was enveloped in an aura of finality.

"_I will save Mary, and all will be well again,_" She thought, and left the glade.

She had not gone more than fifty meters when her resolve began to fade. The forest was dark, and the branches reached out, black claws tearing at her already torn clothing, sucking any remaining vitality from her heavy limbs. But she kept walking, dragging her legs, tired and with a heavy heart. The tears that would not come before took this opportunity to fall. She ran a hand over her eyes, wiping them away.

Unable to continue, she halted, putting a shaking hand against a tree. She took a few deep breaths to steady herself, and she looked around. She didn't recognize the area in the darkness, but she could tell by the sounds of revelry from above that she was close to Castle Rock. Her stomach twisted itself into a knot, and she clenched her teeth, starting forward in spite of the fear that grew within her.

She hadn't gone more than a few steps when a rustle, followed by a sharp snap, caused her to freeze. She held her breath, motionless, praying that whatever had made the sound didn't wish her harm. She prayed whatever it was couldn't see her. She heard a sharp intake of breath, and a soft curse word cut the humid air.

"Shit!" the voice hissed.

Genevieve recognized it immediately, but hesitated in speaking, for fear of any unwelcome ears. But her desire for human contact got the better of her fear, and she moved forward,

"Ralph?" she whispered.

The shadow in front of her froze, then turned slowly. In the darkness Ralph squinted, straining to see who had spoken.

"Ge-Genevieve?" he asked, unsure.

She nodded before realizing he probably wouldn't be able to see the slight movement, "Yes," she said, keeping her voice low, "What are you doing here?"

There was a long pause before he spoke, and Genevieve had begun to worry that he had fallen asleep on his feet, "Hiding"

She crept closer, "From what?" her voice was barely audible.

"_Them,_" Ralph said, and Genevieve knew exactly what he meant.

Somewhere in the darkness they heard a rustle, and there was a tense, fearful silence before Ralph spoke again,

"Why are you here?" He asked her, when the threat had dissipated.

"Mary," She said solemnly.

"What do you mean? What happened?" He asked, in genuine concern.

With an unhappy sigh she began to explain what had passed after he had made his escape. Ralph listened with bated breath, the story only solidifying the fear in his heart. The forest was dense around them, and the shadows that clawed out towards them sent shivers down their spines.

When Genevieve was done, the forest was once again a blanket of silence. Neither of them spoke for a time, until Ralph said,

"They'll kill you if you go up, you know,"

"They'll kill you, too," Genevieve told him solemnly. Genevieve felt icy fingers on her spine, "I _have_ to go,"

Ralph watched her, wondering if she really meant it, if she was really willing to risk her life.

"Good luck, Ralph," She murmured as she passed him, "I'll pray they don't find you,"

Ralph met her eye, "Don't bother. Prayers don't help here,"

Genevieve felt the sting of tears in her eyes as she moved forwards, towards the formidable embankment that separated two universes. Gritting her teeth, she began to climb, not looking back, fearing that any hesitation would stop her. Every rustle, every whisper of wind, made her seize up in fear, shutting her eyes to the world, she hugged the face of the rock, motionless. It was a miracle she ever got to the top.

When she heard the quiet hum of voices from on high, she felt her heart stop, and a few tears run messily down her cheeks. It took a few minutes before she regained the strength to continue climbing. When she reached a spot where she could see the camp, she stopped. The silhouettes of two bony hunters were perched on a rock, watching. She waited. They didn't seem to see her.

"_If_ _I'm quiet enough, I can sneak past them into the camp,_" she thought, and waited.

When she had collected herself with a few deep breaths, she began to run, not looking back. When she thought she had gone a safe distance, she stopped, dropped to the ground, and looked behind her. The two silhouettes remained in their spot. She smiled widely, laughing silently. She took a moment to collect herself.

"What's this?" A soft voice growled above her. She felt something hard and cold digging into her side. She looked up, "And here I was thinking that when someone said to stay away, you _stayed away,_" Roger hissed into her ear.

She was frozen on the spot.

"If it were up to me, you would have been dead when you came the first time. _Mercy,_" he spat, "Isn't really my...style. But it seems I'll get my chance yet," The object at her side was pressed harder. She realized dimly that it was a spear, and that it was moving upwards, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. The spear balanced delicately above her heart. He pressed it down gently, a pool of blood appearing at its point. He moved it downwards, tracing a red line on her chest. Red flowers bloomed on her dirty shirt. He withdrew it softly and a few drops of blood fell to the ground. The earth drank them greedily.

The spear reappeared on her cheek and was used to paint her face in red. Roger crouched beside her, his face close to hers. He smelled of smoke and meat and blood. She gagged, and he beat her with the dull end of the spear until she screamed for mercy.

"_No one will hear you, Genevieve," _was the last thing she heard.

Ralph found a hole, and with his spear, he tucked himself inside it and slept. When morning came, he awoke. The warning Samneric had given him the night before still echoed in his ears, and he wondered dimly what had happened to Genevieve. He was hungry, and he wished he had had the sense to eat something earlier. Surely the hunters would hear his stomach growling.

He tried to ignore it, but it was futile. There was a yawning hole where his stomach should have been. Finally deciding that his hunger was a need that must be satisfied, he squirmed out of the hole, and darted furtively through the trees. When he arrived back at his camp, he found only rotted fruit, swarming with flies. But he ate it anyway, and rejoiced in his meal.

He thought that perhaps he ought to seek out the girls for protection, an idea that had escaped him the night before, and he started towards their camp, before realizing that the hunters, knowing of their alliance, would probably search there first. He turned back to the forest, to return to his little hole. He had gone more than half way before he remembered that he should have said goodbye to the girls, in case, as he reasoned, he was to never see them again. But it was too late to turn back, so he continued with a heavy heart. The hole was as he had left it: small, dirty, safe. He wedged himself inside and began to plan for the inevitable.

He sat for a long time before he heard the hunters. Every noise he heard had made him stiffen, gripping his spear so hard his knuckles turned white, but every time, the danger passed. The waiting was torment, and more than once he found himself wishing they would just come, so that it could all be over with. The more he sat the more restless and afraid he became. It felt like years before he could hear the low voice of one of the hunters, but when he did hear it, he wished that they would go away.

He stopped breathing. His fingers tightened their grip on the spear. His knuckles turned white, and his palms began to sweat. He felt a bead of sweat trailing over his forehead, trembling a moment on the fine hairs of his eyebrow, and then dropping. He brought his free hand up, slowly, carefully, to his brow. He bit the inside of his lip. He heard the drone of bugs. Something was crawling up his leg. He tensed, looked down, and saw a multi-legged monstrosity worming over his calf. He flicked it off in disgust and terror. He heard a voice – Bill's, perhaps – saying, 'he's in here.' He felt a rush of air, then the sharp end of a spear came into his vision.

He grabbed it with his free hand, and jabbed outwards with the other. He heard, 'he's fucking _crazy._' The spear was withdrawn. He prepared himself for another attack, but the threat had gone. He heard footsteps, padding away softly in the other direction. He breathed.

He let his grip loosen. His fingers ached from holding the spear so tightly, and there were four purple, moon-shaped indents in his palm from his nails. He examined these for a moment, then stretched his hand. There was nothing for him to do but wait, it seemed. For the hunters were still there, so even if he wanted to, he couldn't leave the security of his hole.

With a tired sigh, he shifted himself into a more comfortable position. The ground beneath him was warm, soft and faintly wet. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes, trying to think of a plan. Thought escaped him, as it so often did, and he fell asleep.

He coughed. It was hot. He opened his eyes to a cloud of smoke, enveloping him. His eyes burned, and his throat constricted. Something like a wheeze escaped his mouth, and in horror he realized what was happening. He scrambled hastily out of the hole and to his feet. He brought his free arm around his face and peered out into the smoke.

"_They'll burn the whole island!_" he thought in horror, and began to run.

She smelled the fire before she saw or heard it. Indeed, the sound was barely audible above the systematic crash and swell of the ocean. Thick, acrid smoke filled her lungs, and Genevieve woke up coughing. Smoke stung her eyes, and every part of her ached. Dry blood was caked onto her clothes, and she could barely stand. Fuelled only by senseless terror, she began to run, praying she could reach the sand in time.

The jungle was doubly hot, and smoke clouded her vision. She crashed through branches and must have fallen a hundred times, but she kept going. Branches clawed at her, opening old wounds and creating new ones, and twice she was nearly hit with burning timber.

The trees began to thin, and she found herself on the beach again, running towards the girls' camp. She stopped short. Their huts were aflame and the girls shrieking and scrabbling about in confusion. It was Jenny that first saw her, and ran to the bloody creature standing shakily at the edge of their camp. She was taken in a hug, and heard,

"What happened? You disappeared last night, we were so worried! Where did you go?"

But Genevieve could not find the energy to answer. Safe now, all she could do was worry about Ralph and Mary.

Ralph was being pursued. The hunters' unearthly ululations followed him, a perpetual warning of their situation. He was being singed as he ran; burning brands caused the smell of burnt hair to join the smell of burning wood – and animals. He didn't know where he was going. There was no escape. He would need a miracle to escape alive. Nowhere on the island was safe; if they didn't catch him, he'd surely burn to death.

He found the beach by accident, falling forward on the hot, soft sand. He looked back at the hunters; their painted faces made them look more animal than human. They hooted and shrieked, rushing towards him. Jack must have been at the head of the mob, but Ralph couldn't recognize any of them.

He turned and began to run across the beach. His feet sank in the sand and slowed him down. It's like a dream, he thought, where you're being pursued and you can hardly run and you know you're going to be caught, but you keep trying anyway. Tears streamed down his face,

"_I'm going to die, I'm going to die,_" On all fours, he scrabbled forward, sure of his fate.

"What's all this?"

They stopped. An alien in white clothes had landed on the beach.

"What's all this about a beast?"

Ralph stood, and the others moved forward.

The man surveyed them, "Who's in charge here?"

Jack began to step forward, but Ralph said, "I am,"

"This is all just a game, eh?" He chuckled, "Like the Coral Island."

Ralph shook his head, "There's two of us dead, two of us ki-"

Roger stepped forward, "He doesn't know what he's saying, Sir." His voice had lost all fearsome timbre.

The man ignored this, "Any others on the island?"

Jack stepped forward, surveying the group, "There are girls, Sir."

The man arched an eyebrow, "_Girls?_"

"Yes, Sir."

"Well go get them, then. I'll prepare the cruiser," he began to go, but turned back, "We saw your smoke," he said

The boys stood in silence, unable to make eye contact. Jack left to get the girls, as he had been told. He found them sitting on the beach, surrounded by the ashes of their shelters. When they saw him, Mary jumped up,

"What do you want?" She snarled, standing between him and the others.

His voice was unusually meek, he looked at the ground as he spoke, "There's a man," he said, "From the Navy. On the beach. He'll take us home,"

Mary stood in shock, "Are you...sure?"

He nodded solemnly. The other girls began to pool around them,

"What is it?" Margaret asked.

"A ship," she whispered.

Many of the girls began to cry. Margaret and Jenny lifted Genevieve up, and helped her walk down the beach. The other girls followed until only Jack and Mary remained.

"You'll never see us again," Jack said.

"I know,"

"I'm..." She looked up expectantly, "I'm...sorry," he mumbled.

Her mouth twitched, "We ought to go," she said.

There were many tears on the beach as the Officer led them towards the trim cruiser. It was perfectly white on the waves, and Margaret couldn't help but think they were much to dirty to be allowed entrance onto such a clean vessel. They boarded the ship in silence and one by one were admitted to the lavatory for much needed ablutions.

Mary stood on the deck and watched the island disappear on the horizon, her tears falling anonymously into the ocean, disappearing forever.

* * *

**Well, that's it. I hope you liked it, please review. =)**


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